


Delusions Of A Time Long Gone - DISCONTINUED FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE

by Deoxyribose



Category: CountryHumans
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Eventual Smut, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Germany wants nothing to do with him though, Hair Pulling Kink, I have a dry sense of humor so I put it into the mix, I like this story but I can't write, I love me some good fluff, Italy is a good friend, Japan and Italy are dating, Japan is a protective boyfriend, Lots of awkwardness, Love me some good smut too, M/M, Mostly fluff for the first few chapters after they get together, Nipple Play, Reich is a single parent to Germany, Reich is depressed, That's the sad thing, These tags have changed so much, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, USSR has lots of kids, USSR is flirty but blunt, dunno, enjoy, hardcore smut, hopefully gets better, might change the title, send help, um, what else...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deoxyribose/pseuds/Deoxyribose
Summary: Another story by me that is set after WWII. Third Reich's having a hard time with the debt he owes Britain, France and America. His best friends, Italy and Japan, discover Reich trying to indirectly kill himself. They are horrified and try to find him a reason to stay alive.Eventually, Japan comes up with an 'ingenious' plan... They offer to find him a partner, so, naturally, Italy takes him to a bar. The country he meets there though, not only turns out to NOT be a girl as expected, but also somehow manages to encourage him to be a better person. Question is, is it a delusion, or is it a fairytale?
Relationships: Imperialist Japan/Fascist Italy (Implied), Third Reich/USSR
Comments: 63
Kudos: 104





	1. The Morning Before

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Due to the dark-ish nature of my last work, and due to 1 person's support, I have decided to make a book with multiple chapters! Yay! There will definitely be smut in this one, it'll just take a while to manifest itself. There WILL be a story to this one, so if you're looking for a quick wank/fingering session, do not read this. if you're looking for something that is perhaps emotional, you've come to the right place.  
> Also, I did do my research. Germany had been forced to pay $23 billion to the Allied Forces, and Japan had to pay $1.2 billion. Italy had agreed to pay $360 million in reparations. As one country cannot possibly own this much as a 'person', I have changed it up a little. You'll know it when you see it. Okay, enough with the notes, because who reads this anyway??? Comment if you do please. Anyway, ONTO THE STORY!
> 
> P.S. As usual, translations at the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another story by me that is set after WWII. Third Reich's having a hard time with the debt he owes Britain, France and America. His best friends, Italy and Japan, discover Reich trying to indirectly kill himself. They are horrified and try to find him a reason to stay alive.  
> Eventually, Japan comes up with an 'ingenious' plan... They offer to find him a partner, so, naturally, Italy takes him to a bar. The country he meets there though, not only turns out to NOT be a girl as expected, but also somehow manages to encourage him to be a better person. Question is, is it a delusion, or is it a fairytale?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome to the first chapter of Delusions Of A Time Long Gone!  
> For a little bit of context, it is Mid-Winter, not quite Christmas yet, but getting there. Reich is also in near crippling debt and is unable to pay it back by the deadline. This is the reason for his depression; monetary pressure.
> 
> I thank you for actually clicking on this and for choosing to read it, so I hope you enjoy it and don't find it too cringey. Here's to hoping.
> 
> P.S. Translations at the end.

A loud knock at the front door startled Third Reich out of his sleep, making him sit bolt upright in bed, blinking blearily.

"Scheiße!"

He groggily lifted a hand to his head, snarling at the discomfort of both a the rude awakening and the assault his muscles just faced after sitting up so quickly. A sliver of light shone through the curtains, forcing itself through the glass bottles on the table. This alone annoyed the Nazi, making him shift his legs out of bed, his head hanging down as he tried to adjust to the sudden change in altitude. Another quick succession of loud knocks at his door made him grit his teeth and glare furiously over at it as though it had personally offended him.

"Who is it" he called, totally not in the mood for visitors.

"It's us Reich!" Came a familiar voice from behind the door. Oh. Wasn't as bad as he thought. It was just Imperialist Japan and Fascist Italy.

"Come in, you have a key," Reich shouted, pushing himself up off the bed. Reich dragged a hand down his face, groaning. At hearing no reply, he turned to face the door once more, opening his mouth to repeat himself, when a tremendous 'thud' resonated from said door. Reich jerked back at the sudden round, the noise ricocheting around inside his head, worsening his headache. He pressed himself against the wall with a groan, pressing his hands to his eyes.

"What are you doing? Use the key!" 

"Won't open!" Italy called back.

"Pangaea's blessings, you're useless..." Reich said, getting up and walking over to the door to let them both in.

"Why thank you," Japan said when the door opened. He stood aside to let Italy pass, a smug look on his face. "Ladies first."

"Vai a sederti su un cazzo," Italy hissed, striding past him into the apartment. Japan laughed.

"I would, but we're in Reich's apartment for a visit, not a fuckfest," Japan whispered in Italy's ear, making him turn around and smack him playfully across the face. Reich turned away at the display of affection, not because he was jealous, but because he was tired.

"What a welcome" Italy said, assuming a more relaxed stance and allowing himself a look at his friend. "You look terrible my friend, have you been eating?"

"Yes, I've been eating, just not a lot," Reich replied, now feeling self-conscious. He hadn't left his apartment for a few days. The apartment was only small, being a one roomer, but the place was the prefect size for him. There was enough room for a small kitchenette in the far corner with a fridge and microwave, a sofa and a TV on the window wall, and a wonderfully comfortable double bed. It also had a small bathroom with all the necessities. It was cheap but cozy.

"Oh. My. God." Japan started. "You _are_ thin. You do realize you can't survive on just bread, milk and sugar right?"

"Don't even" Reich said, turning away from them and sitting himself down on the sofa.

"What do you mean, 'Don't even', you look like you've been in a concentration camp! Well... Maybe that is a stretch, but when was the last time you actually went out and saw the sun?"

"I think... Last week?"

"Last week!?" Japan sighed, "That's bad, even for you, 私の友人."

"What do you mean, even for me?" Reich sat up, looking at Japan. "The pair of you know what happened here, you should know it could be worse, now leave, the door's that way," Reich waved his hand sadly in the general direction of the door. This was the last straw for Italy, making him step forward and place a comforting hold on Reich's shoulder. Reich turned his head away. Japan moved Italy backwards and stood next to him. It hurt them both to see their friend so deep into depression. Japan decided to try a different approach.

Reich, I know it was hard for you during that time, and the fallout clearly wasn't kind to you, but you have to remember that we all suffered then, not just you."

"Yeah? Well you both _combined_ didn't owe those scheißkerl half as much as I did! Twenty three _thousand_. Where the hölle was I going to get twenty three thousand after a fight that cost most of what I already had?"

"All the more reason NOT to turn to drink, isn't it? If you're already in debt, why rack it up further?" Japan returned, looking around. There were several empty bottles that had clearly contained alcohol at one point laying around the apartment. Italy went towards Reich's kitchen area and threw one of these into a bin overflowing with plastic.

"Why do this to yourself?" He asked, turning back to face Reich. "Why?"

There was a pause, then a sad sigh.

"I was told once that drinking helped you forget. Instead, it just gave me new memories as well as the old ones." Reich admitted. He stood up and walked to the window overlooking the road. He looked through the thin curtains, blinking slowly. His headache was starting to ease up, not by much but it was less noticeable now. "The memories don't bother me anymore, though, because when you get to that point somewhere between unconsciousness and a drunken stupor, you begin to feel really good about yourself, like you're the only one that matters." Reich laughed weakly, it quickly turned into a violent coughing fit. Italy made to move closer to him to help but Reich held out a hand in his direction, stopping him in his tracks. Japan and Italy exchanged looks. "Sad, isn't it. So cliché, drinking to forget."

"Okay, that's it. We're helping you out of this." Japan decided. Reich opened his mouth to protest, but Japan held up a hand to silence him. Reich shut his mouth, but looked very annoyed at having being quietened. "You're becoming poetic my friend, that's how bad it is. Without any kind of intervention you would just keep spiraling. We don't want that." Italy nodded in agreement.

"Oh yes, forgive me for not jumping for joy," Reich deadpanned, "Didn't exactly get the daily recommended amount of sleep."

"Mhm," Japan huffed, "Just imagine, you're doing this for your son".

"It's different with Germany. He's grown up, and you both know he wants nothing to do with me." Reich muttered.

Italy and Japan exchanged looks again in what seemed like a silent debate. Italy sighed, turning back to face Reich. "Alright. No Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, never again... Just you. Would a therapist work?"

"Hell no! I am NOT spouting out my woes to some stranger!" Reich growled. "Something that requires a little less... Work? Effort?."

Japan rolled his eyes, taking a step forward. "Look my friend, you can't afford to be lazy. You're the one with the problem. If the treatment methods bother you so much, why don't you get off your ass and look for one yourself?"

"Don't you get it!?" Reich seethed, turning away from the window and stalking to the back of his sofa, his fingers stabbing into the soft material. "I have no desire to help myself! If I was dead, the only people it would effect is the people I owe money to and my son! My son would be stuck with MY debt, MY problems and all the scheiße that it entails!" Reich seethed. "I am fine with leaving the debt behind, but I couldn't do that to my son. He means too much to me, but he wants to forget I exist. I'm dead to him. I don't blame him after what I did, but without him, I have no real reason to continue living..." Reich's voice faltered when he realized what he had just admitted. He let his head fall on top of his hands.

"Reich, I-I had no idea you felt this way..." Italy began, reaching towards his friend. He looked over at Japan, noticing his shocked face as he stood there watching the Nazi fall apart. 'Help me out here' he mouthed. Japan blinked, then shrugged as if trying to say 'What can I do?'.

"I appreciate the concern, but you don't need to worry about me, you both have children to look after..." Reich whispered, gesturing in Japan's direction. He fell silent once again.

"Reich, we're your friends, we're _supposed_ to worry about you, whether you want us to or not." Italy said sympathetically.

Japan had been shuffling awkwardly in his corner, unable to decide on whether to keep his hands in his pockets or not. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, when an idea suddenly struck him. He beckoned to Italy, who noticed almost immediately, telling Reich he would be back in a moment, and going over to Japan.

"ダーリン, I have an idea!"

"This better be the idea of the decade il mio amore, he's in a really bad place." They both spared a look backwards. Reich didn't look so good. He looked like he'd just walked through tear gas if they was honest.

"Well, it might be. You know how after the war, we started dating and supported each other through it?"

"Yeah, it was the best thing we ever did, because now I get to keep you" Italy cooed.

"Yes yes, whatever. What if, we do something similar for Reich over there. We can try finding him a partner."

There was a pause.

"Japan, seriously? Like I said, he's in a bad place, and we don't even know which way he swings. We have to try something else." Italy made to walk away, but Japan grabbed his wrist.

"He's bisexual."

"How do _you_ know that?" Italy gave Japan a suspicious look.

"I asked him."

"When!?"

"It doesn't matter, please, we need to at least give it a shot. It might be beneficial to him. You never know, he might be willing to give it a go."

Italy looked into his boyfriend's eyes, looking for anything that might have led him to believe that the country in front of him was anything but serious. There was no indicator or any foul play, so he sighed.

"I'll put the idea across to him, but it's his choice, okay? No forcing into it because you think it'll work for sure."

"Yes, okay."

Italy took a deep breath and walked over to Reich, who had stopped hiding his face and instead looked like he had had his life attempted upon.

"Reich, you know I support you fully in whatever you choose to do, yes?" Italy said cautiously.

"Yes, I do know that, why?" Reich answered, looking sideways at his friend.

"Well, Japan over here has just had an idea. You know how me and him ended up in a relationship after the war?"

"Mhm"

"Well, Japan suggested that we find you somebody special too."

"What, like a significant other?"

"Um.. y-yeah, that's the idea... Just not like a marriage thingy," Italy stammered. "You willing to give it a go?"

"Well... I wouldn't say I have many doors open for me at this point, but sure, you can try find someone." Reich sighed. Italy brightened up immediately.

"Wonderful! Don't worry, me and Japan will find somebody!" He said, all smiles. Italy practically skipped over to his boyfriend to share the good news. Japan walked over, his arm interlinked with Italy's.

"We will find somebody for you, we know people," Japan assured him, "But you have work to do on your end too. For starters, clean up, get a shave and take out your trash."

"Yeah yeah, whatever Jap. Just go, and don't let the boot hit you on the way out!" Reich joked.

On their way out of the door, Italy turned to say something.

"Open a window. If you sing loud enough, some birds might come help you with the housework." He laughed.

"Get out idiot!" Reich said, smiling.

"Bye!" Italy called. Japan just smiled and waved. Reich waved back, then went back inside his apartment, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. He took a look around his apartment and grimaced. They were right, his whole existence needed a little TLC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end. Thank you again for reading this, and like I promised;
> 
> The Translations:
> 
> German Words:
> 
> Scheiße - Shit
> 
> Hölle - Hell
> 
> Scheißkerl - Bastards
> 
> Italian Words:
> 
> Vai a sederti su un cazzo - Go sit on a dick
> 
> Japanese Words:
> 
> ダーリン - Darling
> 
> 私の友人 - My Friend


	2. Not Quite A Successful Date, But Not A Failure Either

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reich has successfully acquired a date, but the whole ordeal doesn't go so well. It doesn't turn out bad either though, as Reich finds some nice eye candy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another chapter! Yay, you got past the first one! Here's to you for making it this far! 🥂 Anyway, nobody reads these, so here you are, enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> As always, translations at the end.

Standing in front of a mirror adjusting his shirt and messing with a tie, Third Reich was having doubts. About a week ago, his friends had offered to find him a girlfriend or boyfriend. Thing is, he had dated people before, and had it turn sour so many times. It had seemed like a good idea at the time of Italy suggesting it, but now? Now he was terrified. It had been so long that he forgot how much dates scared him.

"Ach mein gott this is pathetic" He sighed aloud to himself. "Everyone knows who I am, and what I've done. How the hell did they find someone in a week? What was her name even, Switzerland? Gott, he couldn't even remember names at this point. At least she was a neutral country during the feud, so she shouldn't mind too much about the whole 'murderer' thing. He hoped. He made a few final alterations to his outfit before giving himself a small sad smile. He did look good if he was honest, it just felt wrong, like he was deceiving somebody.

"Gonna knock 'em dead Reich," Italy said, coming into the bathroom holding a hot cup of something.

"Ha ha, use different words please, we're only going to a bar, I'm not bringing her home." Reich muttered.

"Oh come on, we cleaned your entire apartment and you need to relieve some stress my friend, sex is the best way to do that!" Italy argued playfully.

"Seriously?" Reich countered, turning to face his friend with an unamused look on his face. "Do you know how much of an arshloch that makes me look like? Wanting sex on the first date?"

"Yeah but-"

"No, look, I appreciate the bad advice, but I think I got this, it's just a date. We might not even end up going out properly. This is just... testing the waters." Reich turned to look into the mirror again.

"...You sure you're okay with this?" Italy asked cautiously, picking up on Reich's doubts, "You don't have to do this you know, we can just call Svizzera up and tell her the date's off."

"No! No I can do this, it's just been a long time... A really long time." Reich laughed weakly.

"Alright, you ready to go? It's just gone half five," Italy said, looking at his watch.

"What!? Ach mein gott! We gotta go!" Reich cried, throwing his coat over his arm, snatching up his keys and grabbing Italy's arm, proceeding to drag him out of the door.

"You were practically on the verge of a panic attack not long ago, now you're off like a bullet. What brought on this change?" Italy laughed.

"Shut up, it's one thing being awkward on a first date, it's a whole other thing being late!" Reich countered, fumbling with his keys trying to lock his apartment door. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, the telltale click of the door as it locked sounded like music to the Nazi's ears. "Okay, time to go!" He said, jumping down the steps two at a time, trying not to slip on the icy surface. Italy followed his friend to the car, remembering how organised Reich used to be. Every pencil on his desk had a place at one time, and now he didn't even keep a watch. He opened the door and stepped into the car with Reich, the pair speeding off towards the bar chosen for the occasion.

\---------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, I know you asked me if I was okay with this, and I know I said yes, but please Italy, you have to take me home, please! I can't do this!" Reich said, looking out of the windscreen at the bar in front of them. He gulped.

"Oh come on Reich, you're out here now, and she's in there. You just have to get up, and walk in. That's all you have to do." Italy assured him.

"I know, but I'm nervous!"

Italy laughed at this.

"To think, the great Third Reich, terrified by a woman" he teased.

Reich shot him a look that was somehow pitiful and yet deadly.

"Not helping." he muttered gloomily.

Italy winced as what he said hit him. He shifted his position to look his friend in the eyes. Reich looked incredibly uncomfortable and out of place, near constantly wetting his lips.

"Okay, I know I shouldn't have said that," Italy began, "And I know it's been a while for you, but this is the only way you can get back into the dating pool." He gave Reich a sad look, trying to portray his regret and support without words. It seemed to get to Reich, as he took a deep breath, nodded, and made to get out of the car. He reached for the handle, but hesitated. He looked back at Italy.

"You're coming with me, right?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

"Now let's go find her!" Italy said with a smile.

Reich smiled back and they both left the car. Reich put on his coat and waited for Italy to trudge through the snow around to his side of the car before heading towards the door. The two nations entered the bar, looking around. It looked very homely, with wooden plank flooring, plenty of private booths against the back wall and window side, and a few other countries on barstools in front of a golden gilded bar. The wall behind said bar was filled with multi-coloured bottles, most of them containing an amber, brown or yellowish liquid. Reich looked around in awe. He had never been to an actual bar in his life, just gone and bought cheap booze from a local corner shop or someone on the street. This place made him feel bad for using alcohol in such a filthy way, as though the building itself was shaming him for misusing it. The bar's appearance and upbeat nature made the presence of alcohol feel a lot more... friendly and just... _not_ destructive.

"Okay!" Italy said, steering his friend to the back wall as the sound of drunken laughter rang out across the room. "I said you'd be in a booth, so you just have to be around here, okay? She doesn't seem to be here yet, so you just need to wait a while."

Reich gulped at the news, not just out of anticipation, but he also remembered that he didn't even know who he was looking for. Nevertheless, he let Italy push him into a booth seat and walk away to a more inconspicuous viewing point across the room. Reich took the waiting time to take off his coat, folding it neatly and placing it on the seat next to him. All of a sudden he felt very self conscious of the symbol on his face, and took a look at the countries at the bar. Most he couldn't recognise, as they were facing away from him, but they must have been friends or something. They seemed very at ease with each other. He was reminded of his friendship with Japan and Italy, and it's dark origins. He looked over at Italy, perhaps looking for reassurance or something else. In all honesty, he didn't know what to do. It had been so long since he had been on a date of any kind, and the idea terrified him. Italy had since bought himself a drink and made himself look more casual to blend in. It was working. All the same, Italy looked over at him and put his drink back down on the table. He gestured to take a deep breath. Reich nodded and took a few deep breaths. He spared himself a glance at his phone. 5:34. Okay, not long now. His date was due to show up soon. He tapped his fingers against the table, looking around once more, this time noticing the carved paneling on the ceiling. He leaned back a bit to admire the craftmanship and skill that went into the making of each panel. Each one had imperfections and alterations, so it sufficed to say that they were handmade. He was snapped out of his trance when he heard an obnoxious coughing. He lifted his head and looked around to seek out the source of the noise. It turned out to be Italy, who was staring at him, and when he noticed that the Nazi was looking at him, he gestured his head towards the door. The Nazi picked up on the cue and in turn, had a look himself. The country that had just walked in was wearing a shoulderless light grey jumper with patterned wrists, black high waist ripped jeans and brown boots. Her skin was blood red, with a white cross on her face. So this was Schweiz. Truth be told, she was beautiful. She had a wonderful figure from what Reich could see, but then reality struck him. He suddenly felt very relieved that he wasn't under-dressed, with his trench coat, white button up shirt, navy jeans and lace up boots. He glanced over at Italy who was just staring ahead, smirking into his drink. 'Blöder arsch' Reich thought. He looked back at Switzerland to see her eyes sweeping the booths until her gaze fell on him. She beamed at him, to which he shot an awkward smile of his own back, watching her make her way over to him.

"Hey!" she piped, slipping into the booth opposite him and putting her bag on the seat next to her. "You must be Third Reich, yes?"

"Um, y-yes" Reich stammered. "Yes, I'm Third Reich but you don't have to call me that, it gets a little annoying for the speaker. It becomes quite a mouthful."

"Oh, don't worry about it, I think it's a fine name. Anyway, don't know if you know, I'm Schweiz. Nice to meet you." She smiled back at him.

"Nice to meet you too, you have a nice name," Reich said, "And you speak German too?" he asked, relieved that the conversation wasn't as awkward as he imagined the it would be. She also didn't seem to mind who he was. Either that or she didn't know.

"Oh yes! I speak multiple languages, German being one of them." she replied.

"That's fascinating, which others do you speak?" The Nazi said, leaning forward on his elbows to listen to her.

"Well, I speak Italian, German, as you know, Romansh and some French."

"Wow, educated, aren't you?"

This made her smile shyly, looking down at her feet.

"It's nothing special, I've just been brought up like that."

"Oh no, I think it's wonderful! I can only speak German and some English," Reich answered quickly. "I wouldn't mind if you taught me some words. Never know when another language might come in handy."

Switzerland looked back at him and smiled. "I'd like that too"

So as not to let the conversation die out, Reich offered to get them some drinks, to which she said yes, so they took a walk up to the bar. In the short space of time it took for Schweiz to enter and for them to talk a bit, the population of the bar had depleted somewhat, leaving some space for them both to order some drinks. Switzerland gently placed her hand in the crook of Reich's arm, making him look at her.

"I'm just going to the bathroom, I won't be long. If the drinks arrive before I get back, just go back to the booth okay?" she asked timidly.

"Yes, yes okay." Reich answered, "I'll wait for you, take as long as you need."

Switzerland's mouth curved into a small smile of her own and she turned, walking in the direction of the bathroom at the back of the bar. Reich turned further to face Italy, who excitedly gave him a thumbs up. He got up and walked over.

"You're doing great my friend! She hasn't run away in terror yet!" Italy joked.

"Oh go away Italy," Reich answered, leaning against the bar. "Must say, she is pretty, and she has a nice voice. Bit smiley though."

"Oh come on, you have everything over there, and the smiles are too much for you?" Italy complained. Reich exhaled through his nose in a mock laugh. 

"They're not too much for me, it's just... nearly constant. Somebody that happy shouldn't be with me. My personality might be contagious."

"Mhm, keep telling yourself that," Italy said as he flagged down the bartender to pay for his drink. "You've got a good catch there, try make it work, please."

"Yeah, okay."

"Great, now, you seem to not need my help anymore, so I'll take my leave."

"What!? No, it's not even been ten minutes!"

" _Exactly_ , it's not even been ten minutes and you've already hit it off. You can do this, okay? It's just talking."

Reich sighed, but nodded. 

"Okay. If things go sour, call me and I'll get you out of here."

"Yeah, okay." Reich answered, defeated. "You'd better get me out if it goes bad. If you don't, I'll see to it personally that you be shot." he threatened.

"Easy serbatoio, it'll be fine." Italy held up his hands in mock surrender. "Good luck on your date!" he said, turning to leave.

"Whatever, der blödel, just go."

The Nazi watched as his friend headed to the doorway, chanting a mantra in his head, 'It'll be okay, I can do this, I'm a grown man, it's just talking.' Suddenly, he heard a commotion in Italy's direction. He looked over, and so did some of the bar members. A tall country had just entered the bar, Italy walking into him. The man that had just entered was wearing a warm looking ivory coloured polo neck sweater, a brown coat not dissimilar to Reich's own, and a pair of black shiny boots. He had a golden symbol of a hammer and sickle around his right eye, making him seem all the more intimidating. Despite the scary appearance, the man removed a hand from his pocket and offered it to Italy without saying anything. Italy took it and said thank you, quickly leaving. The tall stranger looked around.

"What are you looking at?" He said. His accent was a _very_ thick Russian one, and it was so damn sexy that it made Reich go weak at the knees. Reich momentarily contemplated whether he had ever felt like that in his life before. He concluded that he hadn't. Most of the bar had turned around and were leaving the dark stranger alone, and the Nazi was now the only one whose gaze was still fixated on him. The man seemed to notice this, locking eyes with Reich. Reich could feel his face heat up at the stranger's stare and swallowed. The stranger must've noticed this as his face displayed a self-satisfied smirk. He walked over to the bar and stood next to Reich, and only when he did so was the size difference noticeable. This man was a good head taller than Reich was. This did not sit well with Reich and he felt a little put out at the fact that this alluring man was much taller than he was. The man flagged down the bartender.

"мой обычный," he said.

'Ah, so he's a regular?' Reich thought, turning his attention back to the bar, only then noticing that his drinks had been sitting there all this time. 'Scheiße' Reich cursed mentally, picking up his drinks and regretfully walking away from the stranger back to his booth. As soon as he sat down, he looked back at the man at the bar, only to notice that the stranger was watching him. Reich quickly turned his gaze away which he was sure amused the man. It was at this moment that Schweiz chose to return to the booth. When she sat down, she noticed that Reich was looking anywhere but the drink in his hand. She looked back at the bar, and saw the red-skinned stranger looking at them.

"Sorry, did I interrupt something?" She asked cautiously.

"No! No, you didn't, it's okay, sit down, I have your drink." Reich answered quickly. As Switzerland did as she was told, Reich spared a glance over at the man, but the betrayal and hurt he saw in his eyes pulled on what was left of his heartstrings. He watched as the stranger took a barstool and turned away from them, nursing his drink. Reich suddenly felt like he had just stabbed a close friend, and when he noticed that Schweiz was looking at him again, he felt like he had just stabbed someone else.

"Are you sure I didn't interrupt something?" She asked, making to turn around again.

"Y-Yes, I'm sure, don't worry about it, just somebody I thought I knew." he lied. She seemed skeptical, but reached for her drink anyway and took a sip. Schweiz didn't strike Reich as an idiot, so she probably knew what was going on. If she did, she didn't say anything. Reich didn't like that idea, so he asked her some other questions about herself to encourage her to forget the whole ordeal. It seemed to work, and she kept talking, but for the rest of the date, he didn't really listen to what she said. He couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious but sexy man he had seen. When he did look back up at the bar about half an hour later, the stranger was gone. He looked back at Switzerland and continued to join in with the conversation but not really into it anymore.  
A lot of drinks later, Switzerland was now walking the fine line between being tipsy and being drunk. She picked up her phone and looked at it.

"Meine güte!" It's quarter to eight!" she giggled. "How time flies when you're having fun!"

Reich exhaled through his nose in another mock laugh.

"Yeah..."

"How aren't you even tipsy yet?" Schweiz questioned.

"You could say I got used to a lot more..." Reich trailed off.

Switzerland stayed silent, almost immediately cottoning on, despite her drunken state.

"I'm sorry, I should probably get home."

"No, allow me," Reich said. "I have a car, and I can't let you go home on your own this late. I mean, take a look outside, it's dark, cold and snowing."

They both turned to look out of the window on the opposite wall. Indeed it was snowing, quite heavily, and quite quickly molding into flurries and drifts, indicating a harsh wind which was likely to be cold if there were snowflakes.

"Oh my, a-are you sure?" Switzerland hiccupped, "I mean, you've drunk too, we might-we might get in trouble."

"I doubt it, I am not tipsy, I'm quite sober, at least enough to pass for a sober person."

"Thank you then, it's very nice of you," Switzerland slurred. "Let's go, I'll point ya there." She made to stand up, but swayed dangerously, grasping at the table for purchase. Reich stood up quickly, knocking his leg in the process, but still limped out of the booth seat and put a wad of cash under their glasses. He turned to Switzerland and offered her his arm for support. She smiled stupidly and fell against his side.

"Again Reich, thank you for this."

"Don't mention it, it should be common practice," Reich returned.

"Yeah, well, it's not for everyone-" she started.

"I'm sorry, but let's focus on getting to the car first, okay?" Reich said, cutting her off mid-sentence. She looked unimpressed by the interruption, but nodded nonetheless and the pair continued to make their way out of the bar. Their journey was not aided by the fact that Reich had to limp slightly and that Switzerland was staggering here there and everywhere. When, by some miracle, they reached the car, Reich opened the passenger door for Schweiz, letting her in.

"Careful, it's icy here," he said.

"Don't worry, m-my boots have g-grips" Switzerland said; stammering either from the cold or her drunken stupor, Reich could not tell which. Schweiz ducked down to get into the car. Said car was a red F-150 model that Reich was pretty proud of owning, despite it's age. Even when he didn't leave his apartment he made the effort to keep his car clean and safe, and especially for today, he had cleaned it from top to bottom until he could see his face in its paint. His car had been basically everywhere with him, and had suffered beatings of all kinds and needed repairs to nearly everything, so it was almost _not_ the car Reich had bought all those years ago.

"Ah, that's good then," Reich said, stepping forward to close the door behind Schweiz. As he did so, the leg he had hit on the table gave way for a split second, but it was all that was needed to fall flat on his back due to not being able to secure a grip with that foot. Switzerland saw the whole thing and burst into laughter with it quickly becoming a coughing fit. Reich pushed himself up off the floor, still having a hard time gripping the icy floor. He tried to glare menacingly at the woman in his car, but found himself unable to, allowing a smile of his own to grace his face.

"Alright, show's over," he said, still smiling and shutting the door properly. This time, as he made his way around to the driver's door he made sure to keep at least one hand on the car at all times. When he finally sat down, kicking his boots against the sill to rid them of any snow that stuck to them, he closed his own door and started the engine. The overhead light turned itself off as they left the car park, plunging the pair into darkness save for the streetlights that shone down on them every now and again. Switzerland gave directions as best as she could, but a few U turns were made on the journey. It turns out that she lived in a Cul-de-sac behind which was a forest. It was probably beautiful during the daylight, but now that night had fallen, it seemed quite eerie, especially with how quiet the street was. There was less snow here, but it was no less icy. Still, Reich got out and opened the door for Switzerland, letting her out and offering her his arm once more so that she wouldn't slip or slide.

"Are you sure you're the one who should be offering me the arm? Shouldn't it be the other way around after what happened last time?" she giggled, clearly still amused by Reich's fall not too long ago. He huffed in response, offering the cloudy breath in front of him a fleeting glance.

"If that's how you want to be I'll just leave you here," he said jokingly.

"Oh, no! That's not what I meant at all, sorry!" Switzerland was quick to apologise.

"Calm down, it was only a jest," Reich assured her, another small smile making itself known. He saw Switzerland falter, and he quickly shut his mouth. 'The pointed teeth...'Reich thought, 'Of course, she can't have noticed them before.'

"Sorry-" he made to apologise, but Switzerland cut him off mid-apology.

"No! Don't be s-sorry, those are so cool!" she said excitedly, "Are they natural or did you file them?"

"Er... natural..." he said. He was truthful this time. In all honesty, he didn't know _why_ he had them, he just knew he did. He didn't know anybody else _at all_ that had teeth like he did, not even his father; Reichtangle.

"Well, rest assured that they are awesome Reich," Schweiz slurred.

"Thank you, but let's get you home okay?"

"Okay, hold me."

Reich held Switzerland by her waist and helped her across the ice to her front door. Switzerland's house was the same as any other on this particular street, made of stone with a grey slate roof. The window panes were the same shade of green as the door, although with it being so dark it may have been teal or turquoise. Reich decided it didn't matter.

"Reich," Switzerland said, turning to face him.

"Yes?"

"I had a good time with you today, I needed to get out of the house, thank you for that."

"It was my pleasure," Reich answered with a respectful nod of his head.

"That's the thing, I wanted to mention it to you, but I didn't want to call you out on it so early," she began, looking at Reich sadly.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Reich asked, an anxious feeling creeping up his back.

"I mean," she said walking down her front steps to stand in front of Reich, "I mean the country you were looking at back at the bar."

"O-Oh..." Reich started, a finger tracing the inside of his shirt collar, "What about him?"

"I am no fool, Reich," she said. "I could see the way you looked at him, or _didn't_ look at him rather." She smiled fondly. "I've looked at many countries like that myself, I am no teenager."

"A-Ah, well, I guess it's obvious now, isn't it..."

"Just a little bit, mein freund."

Reich could feel his face heating up. He had been out on a date, a _first date_ no less, and had been eyeing up another country. In a way, it was almost a relief though, at least now he didn't have to pretend that he was in love with Switzerland, and she seemed okay with him being bisexual. He decided to ask her head on if she was actually okay with it. I mean, she already knew, so it couldn't get worse, could it?

"Are you..." he said cautiously, looking down, "You're okay with us not going on any more dates, yes?" He grimaced as he realised how hopeful it sounded.

"Of course, if you have your eyes on somebody else, that's neither of our faults," she answered, putting a hand on his cheek and raising his head to look at her. "You just seem like a good person, despite whatever you may have done in your past, it's clearly not you now."

Reich forced himself not to recoil at the memories of what he had done flooded his head. Schweiz seemed to notice this and reached up and left a kiss on Reich's cheek, startling him into silence. She smiled sadly.

"It's been good to get out of the house, but we're obviously not going to pursue a relationship. You can go find that country you were looking at, but just make sure that you're treated right. If he turns out to be an arshloch, leave him, you deserve better. To be fair, you have good taste. He was easy on the eyes," she laughed.

Reich laughed with relief himself, thankful that she was not only accepting, but encouraging of his pursuing of another male.

"He was though, wasn't he. From what I saw, he has a lot of muscle under that jumper." Reich answered, still smiling.

"Ooh, stop, you're going to make me fantasize, now go on, it's getting colder by the minute!"

It was only then that Reich noticed the cold setting into his face. He shivered involuntarily. He said his last goodbyes before heading back to his car. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Not only was he accepted, but he had somebody else's blessing to go find the mysterious stranger. He got back into his car, listening to the familiar purr of the engine as he drove away into the night.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Arriving back at home, Reich turned off the engine and revelled in the lingering heat in the car before having to leave and go out into the cold. The snow around the car park of the apartment block was fresh and untouched, so nobody had been around for at least a few hours. As Reich stepped out of his car, he pulled out his keys and pushed them into the lock on the car door. When he heard the 'click' indicating to him that the car was locked, he tried the handle just to make sure. When he was 100% sure that his car would be safe, he walked into the hallway and went up the steps to his apartment floor. He looked for his doorkey on his keyring, the task seeming to take forever, but once it was found, he let himself into the familiar environment. His apartment had been standing quiet for a few hours now, so it was cold, but not as cold as the weather outside. Reich stepped forward, shaking his head to rid himself of the few flakes of snow that had landed on him. He turned, once again locking the door. He had been out since half five, and it was now nearing nine o'clock. He was hungry. Naturally, he couldn't be bothered to cook, he just wanted a something to eat, a shower and bed. He looked in his fridge and reached for the first thing he saw. It was a mushroom carbonara ready meal. He wasn't too fond of mushrooms, but it was something that Italy had brought over god-knows-how-long ago and he wasn't about to complain due to the nagging feeling of hunger creeping around his abdomen. He stabbed it with a knife from a drawer and put it in the microwave for six minutes, just like it said on the package. Six minutes was long enough to get a shower. Reich hung his coat on the coat-hook next to his front door, and began to unbutton his shirt.

He walked into the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He hadn't noticed how soaked his shirt was. 'It must've either been that slip or the snow' Reich thought to himself, removing the garment from his shoulders and folded it, leaving it on a shelf next to the shower. He turned the shower on, letting the room fill with hot steam that danced welcomingly across his cold skin. He took off his jeans and stepped out of them, stooping to pick them up and fold them and leave them on the same shelf as his shirt. He opened the glass door to the shower, stepping under the jet of hot water and groaning at how good it felt. He closed his eyes and revelled in the sensation for only a moment before reaching for his favourite body wash; Pine and Oakmoss scent. The soap smelt like a pine forest wet with rain and it was one of the most comforting smells to Reich, seeing as he had originally come from a forest. Forests smelt like home.

As a boy, Reich and his father had wandered the woods surrounding him childhood home. It was where Reich learned most of his vital survival skills, as well as climbing and shooting, even though he never imagined he would use it to actually kill someone. He remembered a lake not far from his house that iced over every winter. His father had taken him there and taught him to ice-skate and when he lost his father, Reich’s grief had taken hold and turned him into a monster. He regretted what he had done, but the consequences had followed him. He had long since decided that it was no use dwelling on the past. He shook his head to rid himself of the train of thought but it didn't work. The Nazi tried to think of something else. He suddenly remembered the stranger he had seen at the bar. He also remembered that he never got the man's name, nevermind his phone number. Reich also remembered that smirk that the man had given him. 'Vögeln' Reich cursed as he felt his face heat up again. 'He's just a pretty face, and I may never even see him again'. He turned his face into the water to rinse the soap from his body.

'Running low on the soap' he thought, 'Need to go buy some more.'

When he was convinced that he was thoroughly clean, he turned the shower off and wiped the water from his eyes with his hands. He pulled back the shower door and reached for the towel that had been draped over the small radiator next to the sink. Said towel was in no way fluffy or comfortable but it did the job. As he was getting dried, the 'beep' of the microwave alerted him to his forgotten meal. 'Verdammt'. He wrapped his towel around himself, walking into the main room, turning off the lightswitch as he went. He looked through a chest of drawers next to his bed and pulled out some black, loose-fitting pyjama pants and a black t-shirt. He decided he couldn't be bothered with socks, so just went straight to his kitchenette to get the carbonara.

Upon opening the microwave door, steam gushed out, filling the room with the delicious smell of pasta. 'Just a shame it has mushrooms' Reich thought to himself. He grabbed the plastic fork that came with the package and moved to his sofa to eat.

His curtains were not yet closed, so as he ate, he looked at it, watching the snow form a small drift against the windowsill. The sky outside was pitch black, and with the only light now coming from the kitchen, the apartment was dim but cozy. Reich wolfed down what was left of his food, put the tub in the bin and turned off the light. The apartment was plunged into darkness as he spent a minute or two just looking around the apartment, checking the front door and windows to make sure they were locked. 'Force of habit' Reich reckoned. He walked the oh-so familiar path to his bed and climbed in. Only then did it register in his brain how tired he actually was. Before laying down, he looked around once more, before placing a hand inside the top drawer of his bedside table. His fingertips skimmed the blade that he kept there, making his heart beat less harshly in his chest. He pulled the cover up around his shoulders and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling and watching the shadow of the snowflakes glide across it. He fell asleep quite quickly, the last thing he saw being the dancing shadows above him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! You made it through another chapter, congratulations! 🥂 
> 
> As per always, The Translations:  
> Italian Words:  
> Svizzera - Switzerland  
> Mio amico - My friend  
> Serbatoio - Tank (Vehicle)
> 
> German Words:  
> Ach mein gott - Oh my god  
> Arshloch - Asshole  
> Schweiz - Switzerland  
> Blöder arsch - Stupid arse  
> Der blödel - You idiot  
> Meine Güte - My goodness  
> Mein freund - My friend  
> Verdammt - Damn it
> 
> Russian Words:  
> мой обычный - My usual


	3. Almost Like Sunday Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reich decides he needs to go shopping, but ends up running into the last person he wanted to see on a Sunday morning. He does get to lay down with the hunk from the bar though, so perhaps the pain is worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Third chapter, here's to you if you've made it this far. Congratulations, you have been awarded the 'Iron Stomach' badge! Anyway, onto the chapter.
> 
> P.S. As usual, translations at the end.

Dawn seemed to come unusually quickly for some reason, so when Third Reich first opened his eyes, he just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. He didn't feel rested at all. Instead of complying with his wishes, he sat up and yawned. Pushing back the covers, he rubbed at his eyes, brushing away the sleep that had congealed there. He scratched an annoying itch on his shoulder as he reached for his phone to check the time. The light momentarily blinded him, but when he had another look, his phone screen read 5:47.

'Ah,' he thought, 'That's why I don't feel rested.'

Nevertheless, he was awake now, and he wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon despite it still being dark. He stretched and swung his legs out of bed, leaning back and feeling his back silently 'pop' into place. He looked towards his bedside, pulling open the top drawer to see if the knife was still there. It was. Feeling both satisfied and relieved, he pushed himself up and headed to the bathroom. He still felt mostly clean from his shower yesterday, so instead just splashed cold water on his face to wake himself up, brushed his teeth and went back to the main room to get dressed. Now that he was out of bed, Reich noticed how cold his apartment was. This encouraged him to get dressed quicker than he normally would've done. He pulled on a light grey jumper and black jeans. He grabbed a pair of socks at random, not caring that they were odd. Reich pulled on the socks, hurriedly stepped into the jeans and wrestled the jumper over his head. Adjusting the sleeves, Reich walked into his kitchen area and made a bee-line for a box on the counter. Inside were some pains-au-chocolat that he had been saving for only a short while. He had forgotten if they were a gift or if he had bought them himself. Either way, he had eaten all but one and he decided it would do as breakfast today. He reached up to a cupboard above him and grabbed a glass. He went to the sink and rinsed it off under the tap before making his way back to the fridge, pulling out a nearly empty carton of milk.

'Verdammt, now I _have_ to go shopping.' Reich thought to himself. 'Oh well.'

Reich poured himself what was left of the milk and took a bite of the chocolate treat on the counter. He left his food and went back to his bedside, reaching into the bottom drawer for his notepad and a pencil. Once he had acquired his gear, he went back to the kitchenette, opened the fridge and started shaking the contents individually, deciding how much more needed to be bought of each item and writing it down in the pad in his hand. At the bottom of the list he added the Pine and Oakmoss body soap, underlining it all neatly and drawing a little tick box next to each line that was written on. He downed his drink and stuffed the rest of the pain-au-chocolat into his mouth before heading back towards his front door, grabbing his keys, boots and coat as he went. He slid down the wall and tugged on his lace-ups before tucking his shopping list into his top pocket. He stood back up, unlocked his door, turned off the light and headed out into the even colder hallway. He walked down the steps while fastening his coat and went out to his car. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the snow that had gathered around the wheels.

'Scheiße' he groaned, making his way over to the car-cum-snow-drift and began to kick the snow away from his precious car. He checked the time on his phone. 6:20, on the dot. He had a while before anyone else woke up then. It was a Sunday morning, so most shops would be open until 6:00 p.m, but this particular shop was a 24/7 convenience, luckily for the early risers, and the only people awake would be the church-goers. Reich could never be bothered when it came to religion. He thought it caused too much conflict to be considered 'for the greater good.'

'Mind you,' he thought, 'I'm one to know _all_ about conflict, aren't I?' He aggressively kicked a lump of snow away from his car. He decided it was a futile effort though, as the snow was of the powdery kind, not in clumps as he had hoped. He gave up and unlocked his car, praying that he could just drive out of the drift without any problem. His prayers were answered, and his car slid right out, leaving a neat tyre track in the snow. He set off driving the familiar road to the shop a few streets away. He didn't need his car really, as the store was walking distance, but he _really_ couldn't be bothered walking _anywhere_ today, and he also had a fair few items to bring home and didn't feel like carting it around, so he just took the car as it was convenient.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Reich pulled up a few minutes later outside the shop, stepped out of his car and adjusted his coat and went into the boot of his car. He pulled out a fabric 'bag for life' that he had found lying in the street a long time ago. It really was a bag for life, as the bag was nearly as trustworthy as his car, proving itself useful and durable many times. Reich filled out the creases in the bag, shut the boot and locked his car, heading towards the front doors of the shop. Reich personally knew the owner of this shop as they used to be friends, but after Reich snapped, Estonia wanted nothing to do with him. Reich felt bad for still coming to the shop, but since the fight with Britain, France and America ended, they were on speaking terms again and Estonia didn't seem to mind his presence anymore. Or if he did, he didn't say anything. Reich walked in, hearing the familiar 'ting' of the door and seeing Estonia asleep at the counter. He decided to let him sleep, and went looking for his goods. He hooked the bag's handles onto his shoulder while he pulled out his shopping list. Cheesy store music played quietly somewhere above him while he walked around the shop, picking up the things he needed. He picked up two cartons of milk, a loaf of bread, and some other pieces on the list and added them to the bag. He walked to where toiletries were stocked and began to look for the one he desired. He walked past a red bottle that wasn't too dissimilar from his own skin colour so he backtracked to have a look at it.

The colour reminded him of the man he had seen at the bar the previous day. He felt a stabbing feeling like he had felt when he saw the hurt in the stranger's eyes. He decided he didn't want to think about it, so left the bottle alone and walked further along the aisle, looking for his Pine soap. He found the signature sunset pink bottle with pine trees on the front and added it to the bag. Reich was turning to go look for raspberry jam, (he had forgotten to write it on the list) but when he spun around, the 'ting' of the automatic doors sounded and the countries that just walked in caught his eye. The sight made his blood run cold. It was America and Canada... America was sporting a baseball bat over his shoulder. He almost dropped his bag in fright.

'Ach mein gott...' Reich whispered. Reich ducked behind the aisle. His heart rate picked up speed, banging against his chest almost painfully and his breathing became erratic. He knew he had to pay the debt back as soon as possible, but would they really attack him over it? He didn't want to take any chances. He looked around the aisle to see America being dragged along by his arm by Canada across the store to a refrigerated shelf filled with different kinds of fruit juice. Reich crept across the store towards the counter, deciding he no longer needed jam as much as he previously thought. Estonia was still asleep much to his dismay, so he coughed as loudly as he dared. Thankfully, it was enough to wake him up. Estonia shot bolt upright, blinking rapidly. When he saw who was in front of him though, he relaxed.

"Oh, it's just you, hommikune Reich," he yawned.

"Y-Yeah, guten morgen Estland, listen, I'm sorry to rush you, but please hurry this up," Reich said hurriedly. He tried to keep his voice steady but it wavered a little despite his efforts. Reich felt himself begin to tremble so he grit his teeth and tried desperately to appear normal.

Estonia picked up on this but did as he was asked nonetheless.

"Why? What's wrong? You're acting differently today," Estonia said, keeping his voice low.

"You don't need to know, the less you do, the safer you are," Reich said, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. Estonia did not question it; a quality that Reich had prized when they had been friends. Estonia had trusted him completely and understood social cues, no matter how small. Reich quickly dipped a hand into his pocket in order to get his wallet out and pay. He quickly handed over a roll of notes.

"That should be enough, keep the change if there is any." Reich hurriedly packed up his items while Estonia counted out the notes. Reich's back went ramrod straight as he heard footsteps coming closer. He heard voices, one that he recognized as America, so he assumed the other must be Canada.

"Well, would you look who it is?"

Reich tried desperately to keep his heart rate down, unsuccessfully, but did not turn around. He looked at Estonia, locking eyes with him then looking at the phone on his desk. Estonia got the hint and placed a hand discreetly on top of the phone.

"Third Reich, yes? That is you behind that collar isn't it?"

Reich felt a hand grab his wrist roughly and spin him around, the force making him hit his other arm against the counter. He made no noise though as he knew from experience that it would not help his situation. He looked into the eyes of his aggressor, America, the bat still perched menacingly on his shoulder.

"There we are, I knew it was you!" America smirked evilly, making a feeling of dread ricochet through Reich's core. America's eyes glinted with malice.

"Leave me alone," Reich said quietly, trying to wrestle his hand out of America's grip.

"Why should I? Come on then, smartass, give me a reason," America said, still smirking. Canada wasn't anywhere to be seen. Reich didn't like that. Canada was the rational one.

"Excuse me Sir, let go of him please," Estonia said, now standing and glaring at America.

"Like I said, why should I?" America said, turning to face Estonia, his iron grip on Reich's wrists unrelenting.

"Because if you don't I'll be forced to call authorities," Estonia countered.

"Ooh~, is that supposed to be threat?" America laughed. The hand holding the bat pulled it down to chest height, pointing it straight at Estonia.

Estonia's confidence wavered, but he continued arguing as to why America should let Reich go, and as he did so, Reich's eyes darted about, searching for an escape. As America shifted, brandishing the bat closer to his own chest, the Nazi saw an opportunity. He pushed the bat into America's chest with as much force as he could muster. This, at least, winded the country, making his grip on Reich's wrist loosen enough for him to slip free. Reich pulled his wrist out of arm's reach and leapt backwards. America recovered quickly from the blow, turning to face Reich head on, still holding the bat. America grit his teeth and gripped the bat with two hands. The sight alone sent visions of less than desirable outcomes flashing through Reich's mind.

Canada chose this moment to appear with armfuls of fruit juice, seemingly unaware of the situation. When he saw what was going on and who was involved, he immediately became the peacekeeper.

"America! What are you doing!? We're in a store!"

"Shut up Canada, stay out of this!"

"Like I said, _we're in a store_ , leave him alone!"

"You don't understand, this goes much deeper than you can think of!" America argued.

"And? It's in the past, and from what I understand, you started this fight, so drop it! If you go through with this, you're as bad as he is."

America shook his head, glaring daggers at his brother.

"Stay _OUT_ of this Canada!" he shouted, shoving his brother backwards roughly. Canada hit his head on the metal lining of a shelf and slumped to the floor; out cold. Reich stared in shock at the display of aggression towards a family member. America was younger than he was, more impulsive, and Reich was only getting older. Fortunately, with age came wisdom, and Reich had already been through several fights before. America was still relatively new to the whole 'War' thing. The outcome of this fight should it happen did not look good in Reich's favor, however, as America still had a bat.

America turned back to face Reich, his eyes glinting dangerously. Reich swallowed.

"Bitte, don't do this America, I don't want to fight you," Reich tried to reason.

"Oh yeah? You and your friends had no qualms about _trying to murder us_ before now, did you?"

"That was different, we were teenagers and power-hungry, we've grown up now."

"I'll bet you have," America spat, "Let's see if you're any better at defence."

With that, America lunged forward, waving the bat semi-skillfully at Reich's head. The Nazi had a split second to duck, the bat narrowly missing him. He threw himself upright just in time to see the bat returning for a second blow. He put up a forearm to try block the bat, miraculously managing to stop it with minimal damage. He was suddenly grateful for the layered cuffs on his coat. America seemed aware that the bat was too large and too heavy for a hands-on fight, so he threw it aside, producing a switchblade from a pocket in his combat jeans, probably meaning to either stab or cut Reich with it. Reich didn't leave time to think of what would happen if America was actually given the chance to use it. Instead, he removed his coat, throwing it aside as it just clung to his legs and limited movement. As America held out the blade in front of him, making to swipe it across Reich's face, Reich ducked his head down, the knife narrowly missing him. When Reich straightened back up, he felt a searing pain stab through him. America had managed to twist himself and plunge the knife into Reich's shoulder. America twisted it sharply, leaving blade lodged there and instead wrapped his hands around Reich's neck, squeezing as hard as he could, forcing him down onto the floor. The Nazi tried to prise apart America's hands, the knife in his shoulder sending shocks of white-hot pain through his entirety every time he moved a muscle. With his airways cut off, he was quickly losing oxygen, but adrenaline was beginning to run through his veins, blocking the pain from his mind and allowing him to muster up enough strength to kick at America as hard as he could. Reich planted his foot into the space between America's ribs and his hip, making the country roll sideways and loosen the grip on the Nazi's neck. The snow grips on Reich's boots had torn a gash in America's side, making him bleed through the jacket he was wearing. Reich sat up, placing a tentative hand on his throat, coughing but trying to pull more oxygen desperately into his lungs. America pushed himself onto all fours, clutching his wound, but still looking determined.

"Should've killed you when I had the chance," America snarled, glaring daggers at Reich.

"Shame you feel that way," Reich answered, a thin line of blood making its way down his chin. He wiped it away with his sleeve. He took a few shuddering, painful breaths. He reached over to his knifed shoulder, carefully pulling on the handle. He was rewarded with a shock of pain. He grit his teeth and pulled it out, leaving a wide, bloodied gash in his skin. He threw the knife on the floor beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw America get up and reach for the discarded bat. He forced himself up onto his feet, still holding his shoulder in a futile effort to staunch the bleeding. America started to walk towards him with the bat again. With the two being injured, the winner of the fight was likely to be decided sooner rather than later. Reich backed away, stumbling slightly. He slipped and fell on his own blood, and saw America smile, raising the bat above his head. He would be lying if he said he wasn't scared, but he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, resigning himself to his fate. Much to his surprise though, the final blow never came.

"Isa!" he heard Estonia shout. Reich opened his eyes. The man from the bar stood at the shop's entrance, straightening himself up. America no longer had the bat in his hand. Instead, the bat was on the ground with the bloodied knife that had previously been in Reich's shoulder, now embedded into the end.

"Consider that a warning shot."

"Y-You!" America said, stumbling over his words and springing backwards.

"Yes, me. Good to see you know who I am," he said nonchalantly, not seeming to care too much, "Now, I'd advise either you both leave, or start co-operating with the authorities here:"

As he said this, three Europol officers ran into the shop, rushing towards America and restraining him. America, of course, was protesting his arrest, whereas Canada was just beginning to wake up. The man looked over at Estonia.

"Ты в порядке?"

"Yeah, thanks dad, take Reich with you please, he needs medical help, I'll take care of this." Estonia said.

The man gave a curt nod before offering a hand to Reich, who was still on the floor. The Nazi blinked up at him stupidly, but allowed himself to be pulled upright, still in a daze of confused emotions. This was Estonia's dad? Oh god. Reich looked over at the items he had tried to buy before being so rudely interrupted by a death-match.

"Don't worry about those," Estonia said, "I know Italy and Japan, I'll make sure you get them."

Reich opened him mouth to say something but he felt his waist being encircled by a large hand and let himself be guided towards the door.

"Do you have a car?" the country questioned.

Reich tried to say 'Yes' but his throat was too badly damaged. He couldn't feel the pain yet, but he knew once the adrenaline wore off, it would probably be excruciating. Instead, he took the keys out of his pocket and held them in front of his face. 

"Okay, that's a yes. Come on, I'll drive you to a hospital."

"N-No!" Reich forced out, "No hospitals, too-too many enemies." He could feel a blood pool building under his tongue.

"Okay then, no hospitals," the man said. "Where do you want me to take you?"

"My a-apartment, please," Reich said, clinging to the country's arm as he leaned forward to spit the blood out of his mouth. He felt the man grab the other side of his body to keep him stable. "Here," Reich whispered, handing the country the keys and pointing to his car.

"Nice car, come on, point me the way," the country said, pulling him upright and keeping him steady on his feet. They both made it to the car, climbed in and drove away. When they reached Reich's apartment block, the stranger insisted on helping Reich look after his wounds. With a sigh of defeat, Reich accepted that he needed help tending to his injuries, and invited the country in, thanking Pangaea that his apartment was clean and mess-free. His shoulder was starting to gain its senses back, a deep-set pain making its way through his body. Reich walked to the bathroom unaided and pulled himself up onto the counter. The country in front of him stood at the door awkwardly, not really knowing what was okay to do.

"If you want to-to help, help me get this jumper off-ah!" Reich forced out through the pain that was now flooding how entire being. The country rushed forward and carefully lifted the hem of Reich's jumper and lifted it over his head, peeling it off due to the material being completely soaked with blood. Reich folded the jumper to the best of his ability despite being one arm down while the man ran some water in the sink next to him. Reich shifted his position to have a look at the damage done to him. He knew about the state of his neck, but the shoulder looked bad. No bone was visible, thank Pangaea, but it seemed to be bleeding pretty badly.

"You're awfully lucky to get this few injuries," the country said, startling Reich out of his analysis process.

"I-I've had worse," Reich countered quietly. It was at this that the country noticed how many scars littered Reich's torso. He also noticed the semi-fresh looking bandages around Reich's wrists but decided not to mention it.

"That much is obvious."

"Was, you didn't notice them before?" Reich questioned, looking down.

"No."

"Gee, real observant, aren't you?" Reich teased before leaning over to spit more blood out of his mouth.

"Talk less or don't talk at all, you'll worsen your throat if you keep aggravating the injury."

The man had gotten a flannel from the radiator and had soaked it in the warm water. He wrung it out and held it up.

"Move your shoulder, here." he beckoned.

Reich didn't question it, once again shifting and bringing his shoulder closer to the country in front of him.

"Why are you helping me? You have no-Ah!" Reich gasped mid-sentence as the hot water ran into the gash. "H-hot!"

If you want it cleaned, the heat is necessary." the man countered.

"We-we're not t-trying to cauterize it!"

"If we were, I wouldn't recommend using water."

"Ah, we have a jokester in our midst," Reich huffed, the sentence quickly turning into a cough. He turned his head and spat out the congealing blood again.

The man only smiled, continuing to clean the gash as best as he could. Reich was surprised at how gentle he was being. The Nazi said nothing, just letting the nation clean his wound. Nothing much was said for a while after. 

"There we go, the bleeding seems to have stopped, or at least slowed down a lot." the man said, kneeling down next to the sink. "You _do_ know this wound is too wide to bandage," he said, looking up into Reich's eyes. "You don't have a sewing kit by any chance do you?"

"Ja, ich mache. Y-You'll have to sew though," Reich forced out. "Also, d-don't know your name."

"The Soviet Union, USSR or Soviet for short," USSR replied. "Show me where you keep the kit."

Reich pushed himself off the counter.

"Follow, please," he whispered.

USSR followed Reich into his kitchenette and watched as he reached for a box on top of the cupboards with his good arm. When Reich turned around, he put the box on the counter and showed USSR the contents. A needle, a spool of white thread, plasters and multiple rolls of bandages. Soviet reached for the needle and thread, inspecting the thread closely.

"This is surgical, it'll dissolve over time." he said, "But that doesn't make it any less painful to sew up."

"I know."

"Okay then, make yourself comfortable on the sofa."

Reich looked uncertainly at the sofa but went and laid down on it anyway. USSR walked over with the needle, thread, and a bottle that was very familiar to Reich; the numbing cream. He skimmed over the instructions before popping off the cap and applying a generous amount to the flesh around the wound. Reich hissed at the mild burn, then sighed at the cool relief.

"Sorry." USSR said sympathetically.

"Don't be, it-it's working," Reich answered, shoving his face into the cushion in front of him.

USSR gently pricked the area with the needle. Upon getting no reaction, he threaded it and began his work. He knew he had to work quickly before the effects of the cream wore off. Reich turned his head to watch what the Soviet was doing, mesmerized by the calculated movements of his hands as they worked. In what seemed like no time at all, his shoulder was completely sewn and USSR was applying bandages to it. Reich sat himself up so he could wrap the bandages around his torso to keep them in place.

"E-Er, danke, for doing this," Reich said, looking at the country sitting next to him. "You didn't have to."

"I did though," Soviet answered, "Countries like us have lots of enemies, so we help each other out."

'Countries like us?' Reich thought. 'Does he mean, murderers? No, he couldn't know about that... Could he?'

"Anyway, what's-" USSR started, just to be interrupted by a rapid succession of knocks on Reich's front door. Soviet looked at him.

"You were expecting visitors?"

Reich shook his head. USSR produced a small blade from his sleeve and got up to answer the door. Reich got up and walked around to see who was at the door.

"Who're you!? What are you doing in Reich's apartment!?" He recognized that voice. It was Fascist Italy. He breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped forward meaning to open the door properly.

"Could ask you the same thing." Reich heard USSR answer.

"No, friend," Reich forced out, placing a hand on USSR's arm. The Soviet looked down at him for assurance, then stepped sideways allowing Italy to come in. Italy barged straight past with wild eyes, looking for his friend. Imperialist Japan had also come to visit, giving Soviet a suspicious sideways look, receiving a glare in return. He pushed past him and went straight to Italy's side, allowing USSR to close the door and put the blade back into its holder in his sleeve.

"Reich! I came as soon as I heard!" Italy cried, "Estonia called me, he told me he was at the police station and there'd been an incident involving you and his dad."

Reich only nodded, as that was all he felt he could do at the moment. His throat felt like it was constantly under pressure and in pain. Italy noticed the lack of response and surveyed him. He gently tilted Reich's head upwards to analyse the damage to his neck.

"Pangaea's blessing, this is just _typical_ of that American bastard," Japan spat. "You can't go anywhere nowadays, can you?"

"Calm down my dear, we know how you feel about America," Italy reassured him, "Reich's safe now and on the road to recovery. That's all that matters." Italy gave Reich a sad smile.

"These are for you too, Estonia sent them with us." Japan said, holding out the now blood-spattered bag for life. Reich almost laughed. 'Not much of a bag for life now is it?'

"Thank you, but you need-you need to thank him as well," Reich coughed, gesturing over to USSR who had just been standing silently, watching the whole reunion going on. He looked surprised to be called out and put in the spotlight.

"Мне?"

Reich nodded.

"He saved my life," he forced out, "Threw a knife at America, and this." Reich gestured to the bandages criss-crossing his chest and shoulder. Both Italy and Japan looked at Soviet in surprise. Japan looked impressed by the knife comment if his face was anything to go by. USSR seemed embarrassed at the attention. He shuffled awkwardly.

"Just trying to prevent any deaths, there's been too much of that happening to too many of the wrong people."

'He considers me... the wrong person to kill?' Reich thought, feeling flattered. He felt his face heating up despite the situation. Italy noticed.

"Are you alright?"

Reich nodded.

"Be right back-" he near whispered, heading back to the bathroom and spitting out the blood that was still coming from his mouth. Italy followed, placing a comforting hand on his back and ran the tap to rinse the blood of his face.

"You need to rest your throat and let it heal, you need to stop talking," Italy said. "I know it'll be hard for you."

"Mhm..."

"Come on, you need to rest."

Reich tried to protest but was stopped by a finger on his lips.

"I know it's early, but neither me nor Japan have work today, so we can go run errands for you."

Reich nodded in understanding, but walked out of the bathroom and looked in the bottom drawer of his bedside table. He got out his notebook and pencil.

"Okay, so I just stay here and watch TV all day?" he wrote. Italy had a look.

"Yes, if that's what it takes. Me and Japan will go and find food suitable for you."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Japan said, coming to stand next to Italy. "We've got it covered. You just need to look after yourself. We'll go, text us if you want anything, okay?"

Reich nodded and walked towards USSR.

"When Italy and Japan go out, I-" He paused, thinking over his next words carefully. "I don't want to be left alone. Could you stay? Please?"

"Okay. I'll stay, if that's what you want."

Japan went to argue but Italy put his hands on Japan's arms to calm him, whispering something to him. He froze in his tracks and walked out of the door without saying a word.

"What did you tell him?" Reich wrote.

"Ah, you don't need to know that part," Italy said, smirking. He turned to leave also, but looked at USSR and opened his mouth to say something.

"No funny business okay? Reich's hurt, you can wait until after he's healed, then he's _aaaaall_ yours." he quipped before beaming and booking it out of the door. Both of their faces went bright red and Reich stormed to the door and slammed it. He couldn't look at USSR but felt his gaze burning into his back.

"TV time I guess."

Reich nodded.

"Is there anything you want?"

Reich shook his head.

"Okay, coming to sit?"

Reich said nothing but moved stiffly and plopped himself down on the sofa next to the Soviet. It was awkward at first, but over time, they watched whatever crap was on the TV and gradually it felt more casual and normal.

"By the way, your name is Reich isn't it?" USSR questioned.

Reich picked up his notepad again.

"Yes, it is. How did you know? I don't recall telling you my name."

"That's because you didn't. Estonia told me to take you with me, remember? I just assumed he meant you, because I knew who America and Canada were."

"Ah, how stupid of me."

"No, don't worry, it was only for a brief moment, I didn't expect you to pick up on it."

"Yeah, I still feel stupid though."

"Well don't then," the Soviet said, smiling at Reich. 'He has a nice smile.' The Nazi thought to himself, relishing in the few seconds that it was visible.

"Okay, I'll try."

"Anyway, I wanted to ask you a question." USSR said, once again looking away from the TV.

"You did though."

"No, I mean another one." he huffed.

"Ah, okay then." Reich smiled and tilted himself to face USSR more comfortably.

"When I first saw you, back in that bar, you were with a girl."

"Who?"

"Red girl, white cross," USSR said, drawing a cross on his face and Reich half expected it to actually appear.

"Oh, you mean Schweiz?"

"Yeah, if that's her name."

"Yes, I know who you mean now. And what about her?"

USSR paused for a moment, the slightest hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks.

"There's no normal way to ask this, but, are you dating her?"

It was the Nazi's turn to blush.

"No! I mean, she's _nice_ but, I wouldn't _date_ her."

USSR almost looked relieved. 'Does this mean he likes me too!?' Reich thought to himself excitedly. 'It'd better.'

"Ah, thank you, just asking."

Reich's heart stopped. 'He was... Just asking? Shouldn't get my hopes up like that.' he thought sadly. He drew his legs up to his chest, hugging them and trying to keep his body heat in as it was quickly disappearing without his jumper on. USSR must've noticed him looking cold as he moved closer to him. Reich suddenly realized something, so he sat up and began writing.

"What's wrong?"

"I left my coat back at the shop!" Reich showed USSR the notepad, looking genuinely upset.

"It's okay, if you're cold, we can share mine."

"It's not that, but I'm not saying no to the offer."

Turns out, the position required for maximum coverage with the coat was the Soviet laying on his back with Reich on top of him. That way, both of them were covered by the coat and their bodies kept heat in. The position felt awkward and compromising for a while, but as they spent more time like that together, it became more natural. Some cheesy rom-com was on the TV but neither of them focused properly on it, it was too generic. Instead, Reich passed the remote to USSR and let him channel surf. In all honesty, he was in absolute heaven, despite being beaten up pretty good and having a constant ache in his body. The sexy stranger from the bar was now beneath him, willingly sharing his coat and body heat with him in a _very_ intimate position.

Reich lay his head on the Soviet's chest. To say they only learnt each other's names about an hour ago, they seemed quite close, and despite USSR 'just asking' if Reich a girlfriend, he didn't seem to mind the close proximity. The Nazi was not about to let the moment go to waste as USSR didn't seem interested in asking him on a date any time soon. Maybe never. It'd also been a while since he had shared intimacy like this with... well... _anyone_ , so the action made him feel like a giddy schoolboy again. It was probably only eight, half eight, maybe nine at a stretch, but despite it still being somewhat early, Reich found himself falling asleep again. 

'No! Don't fall asleep on him! That's so cliché!' he mentally scolded himself.

The scolding wasn't very effective as his eyelids still felt heavy. 'Well... what's the worst that could happen? I mean, he practically _volunteered_ for this, so he should expect something like this to happen, can't blame me.' Reich tried to reason with himself. In the end, his sleepiness won, leaving him drifting into a warm and dreamless sleep, something he hadn't known the like of for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah, yay! Another chapter! Sorry it's late... four hours late... But hey! It's here now, so hooray to me! And about our favourite couple, a little intimacy never hurt anyone, right?
> 
> As always, The Translations:  
> German Words:  
> Schweiz - Switzerland  
> Verdammt - Damn it  
> Ach mein gott - Oh my god  
> Guten morgen - Good morning  
> Estland - Estonia  
> Bitte - Please  
> Was - What  
> Ich mache - I do  
> Ja - Yes  
> Danke - Thank you
> 
> Estonian Words:  
> Isa - Dad/Father  
> Hommikune - Good morning
> 
> Russian Words:  
> Ты в порядке? - Are you okay?  
> Мне - Me


	4. Jam And Casserole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing exciting happens in this chapter, just a short of USSR looking after Reich and cooking. Casserole is my favourite, and I hope that other people like it too. It's practically mana from Pangaea!
> 
> Basically, USSR sleeps over and stays with Reich for a day. No funny business per Italy's request.
> 
> As usual, translations at the end.

When Third Reich's eyes began to open again, he could only assume it had been a few hours since he had fallen asleep. He had woken up now laying on his good side, and with something digging into his hip. He turned himself over to see what it was, only to see that USSR was asleep opposite him on the sofa. Reich stopped in surprise at the fact that the Soviet had actually stayed, and not only that, but had fallen asleep too. The Nazi also noticed that USSR had placed his coat over him. Probably when he was sleeping. Reich halted his train of though and adjusted his position to sit up. He made an unflattering squeak of surprise as he failed to get a grip and fell gracelessly onto the hardwood floor. The drop caused a loud-ish 'thud' to resonate around the apartment, making Reich cringe. His gaze went back to the country asleep on his sofa, who didn't appear to be affected by the noise. Reich let out a sigh of relief; he didn't want to wake him up, at least, not yet. He stood himself up and gave USSR his coat back, draping it over him to keep him warm, and went to look at the clock on his bedside table. It was now 11:27.

'Wow, guess I _was_ tired, huh?' Reich thought to himself. His arm felt like it was falling asleep, so he tried stretching. A painful twinge in his shoulder made him stop. He suddenly remembered the events of earlier that morning. His shoulder probably shouldn't be move; it had literally just been sewn up a few hours ago. 'Well, there's one downside to _not_ going to a hospital.' he thought, inspecting his shoulder. He had to admit, the stitching was quite neat to say how quickly USSR had done it. He was impressed. There was a deep-set ache throughout his body, making him want to just go back to sleep. Reich knew it would be damn near impossible now. He couldn't just go back to sleep on USSR and he couldn't just get into bed. He decided to get something to eat, and just go from there. Thanks to Italy and Japan bringing the now bloodied bag for life, he now had some _actual_ food in his house now. He didn't remember where he put it, so he spent a while looking for it before noticing it had been placed on the end counter in his kitchenette. Italy or Japan must've left it because he didn't remember taking it when Italy held it out. He went over to it and began to rummage through, looking through the contents and started to put them where they needed to be. At the bottom of the bag, there was a glass jar. He picked it up in confusion, looking at the label. 'Raspberry jam, of course.' he smiled to himself. 'Thank you, whoever put that in there.'

A noise from the sofa's direction startled Reich out of his musings. He turned his head to see what USSR was doing, finding that he was just turning over. Reich pinched the bridge of his nose. 'He's still asleep, nothing to be afraid of, du dummer dummkopf.' Reich shivered. He still had nothing covering the top half of his body and the apartment wasn't exactly warm. He abandoned the task of putting things away and instead went to get dressed. His jeans were spattered with little spots of blood, nothing major, but noticeable. He looked in his dresser and took out a t-shirt and some comfortable pyjama pants. He looked at the bandages on his shoulder and decided that they didn't need to be changed as they looked clean enough. He pulled on the t-shirt and removed his jeans, putting the pyjama pants on too. He folded up the jeans and put them in the bathroom with the jumper he had worn the previous day. When he re-entered the main room, he moved back towards the kitchenette.

"Morning."

Reich almost jumped out of his skin. His heart skipped a beat and he looked at the source of the noise. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was just USSR. He had woken up and was leaning over the back of the sofa, resting his head atop his arms. He had a smirk on his face.

"Somebody's jumpy."

"Yes, d-don't do that!" Reich rasped, his throat still damaged.

"Don't talk, you're going to hurt yourself even more," Soviet said, getting up and walking over. "Lift your head."

Reich complied, raising his chin and allowing USSR to survey the purple hand-shaped bruises blossoming along his neck.

"You really ought to go to a hospital you know," he said, "There's only so much I can do."

Reich moved his head out of USSR's grip and nodded.

"Who exactly are you trying to avoid?"

Reich shrugged at this. In all honesty, he did want to go to a hospital, but he didn't want to risk seeing anyone he knew as unfriendly or owed money to. Whoever that might be, he didn't want to run into them. USSR seemed to notice that Reich was getting lost in his thoughts as he gave him a gentle shake.

"сожалеющий, shouldn't have asked..."

"Nein," Reich whispered, "S' okay."

"If you say so," USSR answered, giving Reich a smile. "Also, I've been meaning to ask. This is very serious."

Reich nodded, looking into his eyes. The Soviet stared back.

"Do you have any food here, I'm starving."

Reich laughed as much as he dared, although it must've sounded like a dying animal due to his throat. USSR also couldn't hold the straight face and laughed too.

"Okay okay, seriously though, do you want me to take you out for food? Or do you eat in."

Reich went to retrieve his notepad from the sofa.

"I normally eat in, and I do have food. Help yourself, I've gotten the delivery from Italy," Reich wrote, gesturing to the bag on the counter. "I was putting them away earlier, but then I got cold."

"Don't worry about it, I can cook. Pretty well if I do say so myself," USSR stated, looking quite proud of himself.

"I apologise, but most of it's snack food," Reich explained.

"Ah, nevermind then," USSR said, now looking put out. "But, won't your throat hurt if you try to eat anything that isn't soft? Are you sure you want to try eating this stuff?"

"Bread's soft. I can eat that."

"Look, I'm sorry for asking this too but, do you just, eat snack food all the time?"

Reich shrugged.

"Yeah, normally."

"Really? You look thin. When did you last have a proper meal?"

Reich paused to think before writing. This question had him stumped. He had eaten nothing but snack foods for about, maybe, a few months? Certainly not a year.

"To be honest, I don't know. I can't remember," Reich admitted.

"нет нет, this won't do," USSR said shaking his head. "Stay here, I'll go out and buy something proper for you to eat. Something that's _not_ bread."

Reich put the notepad down and put a hand on USSR's arm. When the Soviet looked down at him, he shook his head.

"D-don't need to-" he rasped.

USSR sighed and stooped down a little to meet Reich's eye level. Reich felt his face heating up in embarrassment at being shown up as short.

"Okay, look at it this way. You haven't had a cooked meal in what seems like forever, so I'm going to both indulge you and do what I think is best for you, that sound alright?"

Reich was stunned into silence at that. He didn't know that other countries besides Italy and Japan could be this kind to him. He turned his face away, looking down at his feet and mumbling something.

"I'll take that as a 'Yes'," USSR said, straightening up. "Don't worry, I'll be as quick as possible."

"Anything you want me to-to do?"

"No, I'll do it, just try to go back to sleep or something. Can I take your car?"

Reich nodded and watched as USSR put on the coat he had slept under.

"Keys?"

"Oh, r-right.."

Reich threw him the keys.

"Thanks, be back soon!"

"Okay..."

Reich watched from the window as the Soviet went out to his precious car and drove away. When the car was out of sight, he took a running leap at his bed, feeling a blush creeping across his cheeks.

'Why did this happen to meeeee...' he groaned, shoving his face into a pillow. He raised his head to breathe again and rolled onto his good side, being mindful of his shoulder. He hugged the pillow to himself tightly, sighing for no reason in particular. From this position, he could see the sofa where he had been sleeping not too long ago. He thought about how much more awkward it would have been to wake up had they both been in the bed instead. He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts manifesting, unbidden into his mind.

'Pangaea's blessings, this is a nightmare!' Reich though rolling restlessly around the bed. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. USSR had only been gone for about three minutes.

'Why do I need him _this_ badly?' he wondered. 'I only properly met him today and he's just a pretty face... ...who just so happened to save my life and is supposedly looking after me... ugh, I don't need this in my life! I'm not a child!'

He pressed his hands to his eyes and groaned. His shoulder was sore and stiff and he had just aggravated it, _again_. He directed his thoughts elsewhere so as to ignore the ache blossoming in his shoulder, and began to think about that night at the bar, when he had first met- ...well... _saw_ USSR. He had given Reich a seductive smile and looked like he was going to try pick him up. Unfortunately Switzerland had come back at that moment and turned everything on its head. Schweiz! Oh, he had forgotten about her in the space of one day? That wasn't right. The things USSR was doing to him, it was terrifying. How could one country make him forget all about everything else? He lay on his back in bed and thought hard about this question. He didn't think he had an answer at first, but then he remembered all the past relationships he had been in. Austria; Reich's first for just about, well, _everything_ relationship-wise. He had made him feel like this. The memory of him still hurt. Reich had mourned that breakup for months. Luxembourg. She was small in stature, but so clever. He could have so many long conversations with her and always learnt something new with her. She had made him feel like this. There had been others, but Reich either didn't bother to remember them or didn't want to. As painful as it was to admit, Reich had come to a conclusion; he had fallen in love. _Again_.

'I just met him!' He mentally scolded. 'You fall for people too easily, you idiot!'

Reich continued to argue his case as to why he should not be in love with USSR, but only in his head.

'I must be going crazy, I'm having a full on conversation with myself...' he sighed. He rolled himself over to look back at the sofa.

'If I'm crazy, this means I _can't_ be in love with him because I am not of sound mind...' Reich tried to reason. It wasn't doing much as it wasn't very convincing. Just to shut his mind up he held out a hand in front of him, looking at the claw-like fingers and the mesmerizing curves each of the digits had where it met his palm. He ran his other fingers over his hand and made random swirling patterns on his skin. A simple form of entertainment, but calming nonetheless. His father had taught him relaxing techniques, and in the process of trying to find one that worked for him, his father had held his hands and drawn patterns onto his hand. That proved to be successful in slowing his body down, and he had used the method ever since, usually to sleep or whenever he was on the verge of a panic attack. The action encouraged his breathing and heart rate to slow down, making him feel more relaxed and sleepy. Back in the present, Reich felt his eyelids growing heavy again.

'Don't go back to sleep, you're waiting for USSR.'

He sat up and leaned against the wall. He reached for his phone and flicked through the text messages he had exchanged with Italy and Japan over the past few weeks. Nothing special, and certainly nothing interesting to look at. He gave up, allowing his head to roll back against the wall and closing his eyes. He was bored.

'I don't need him, I have television.' he realized, sitting up.

Reich crawled off the bed and sat down on the sofa, turning on the TV and trying to get comfortable. Nothing of interest was on, and he continually shifted and fidgeted, no longer able to focus on the screen. He was beginning to become irritable and frustrated.

'I don't need sleep! I've slept too much already, I need to get out of here and _do_ something...' Reich thought. He turned the TV off, jumped up more exciteably than he probably should've done, and began pacing, trying to decide what to do.

'What the vögeln am I doing?' Reich contemplated. On his seventh lap around the room, his mind wandered back to USSR and the way he had thrown the knife at America's bat. The though of the Soviet having to practice to get the aim perfect was more than a little arousing. He imagined how many times USSR must've stood there, throwing knives or other ornaments, just trying to perfect his throw. He imagined how USSR might've not worn a shirt while doing so. He felt his face heat up, and only then did he realize what he was thinking about. His eyes widened.

'NO NO NO!' he shouted, much to his throat's dismay. He instantaneously regretted this decision as he now had a sore throat... _again_. He shook his head violently in an attempt to clear his head of thoughts. Now he was both irritated and sexually frustrated. What a wonderful combination.

'Okay, maybe sleep is a good idea,' he thought, moving back towards his bed and flopping down on it with a defeated sigh.

'I don't need this...'

He allowed his eyes to close, and sleep, it seemed, did not want to find him. He tossed and turned but nothing helped. His arousal at his earlier mental images was still coiled in his belly and refused to leave. Reich _really_ didn't feel like jerking off, not when he was expecting company, so against his better judgement, he lay there and insisted on trying to sleep. Despite seeming completely adamant that he didn't want to sleep not 5 minutes ago, sleep found him nevertheless. He must've been more tired than he thought.

\---------------------------------------------------------

The next and final time that Reich woke up that day was to the front door being opened. Despite being in a deep sleep only a few moments ago, Reich was suddenly wide awake and reaching for the knife in the drawer. He breathed a sigh of relief when USSR's silhouette stepped into the apartment, putting the knife out of sight quickly and hoping that USSR didn't see it.

"You're still jumpy Reich. You should try to calm down, you're safe up here." USSR said, leaving a bag on the counter in Reich's kitchen. He started sifting through and picking out certain items, setting them down next to the bag. Reich walked over to him to see what he was getting out. USSR had brought several carrots, a bottle of sunflower oil, a cut of beef, a large onion, a small bag of what looked like flour, and assorted small jars of peppercorns, garlic and mixed herbs. Beside the beef on the counter was a bottle of red wine.

'Wine? Does he plan to make this a date or something?' Reich thought to himself. USSR must've seen him eyeing the bottle, as he smiled and said, "Not like a date, don't worry. It's for the casserole."

'What the hell is casserole?' Reich thought. 'At least he knows what he's doing?'

"Do you want to help?"

Reich thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay then, could you start by getting out a bowl and a frying pan?"

"Sure." he said, stooping to the lower cupboards to retrieve them. USSR inspected them for a moment, then decided that they would be more than suitable.

"Could you please chop these for me? I'll sort out everything else," USSR said, rolling the onion and the carrots over in Reich's direction.

"Yep."

As Reich was cutting the vegetables, USSR was busying himself with the cut of beef and the spice jars. He had sliced the meat into similar sized chunks and made a patch of flour on the worktop, rolling the meat in it and mixing it with salt and the now crushed peppercorns. He put the meat into the pan with some of the oil and gave it a minute to cook. Reich watched in fascination; he hadn't cooked since his dad died, and he had never bothered to go to a restaurant. After a few minutes, the meat was browned on all sides, so USSR added the now chopped onion and carrots and congratulating Reich on his neat handiwork. Soviet added the garlic and herbs and pushed them around the pan in order to make sure the meat was properly flavored. He turned to face the Nazi, asking him if he wanted to try. Reich was unsure at first, but USSR assured him he only had to stir it. Reich finally agreed, stirring the ingredients with increasing confidence under the Soviet's guidance. After about a minute, USSR halted his movements and had a look at how the meat was doing. When he was sure it was thoroughly flavored, USSR added beef stock to the mix and popped the cork on the wine, pouring small amounts into the pan and giving the contents a stir each time. Reich was confused about this part, as he felt you didn't need alcohol in a meal. He accepted it nonetheless, as he wasn't about to turn down such a rare treat. The food had already begun to smell appetizing, and even though Reich had never even heard of casserole, it looked _very_ nice. USSR reached into a drawer and pulled out a spoon, scooping up some of the casserole and blowing on it to cool it down. When he deemed it cool enough, he brought it to his lips and tasted it.

"I think it's done," he said, "But here, tell me what you think."

Reich looked at the spoon in front of his face with scepticism. It _looked_ fine, and it _smelt_ fine. The proof would have to be in the pudding, so to speak. He relinquished his grip on the pan with one hand to take the spoon for himself and taste it.

"Good enough?"

"Y-Yes," Reich rasped, sighing and genuinely enjoying the taste of proper food after what now felt like a several-month-long fast. He hadn't had _good_ food for a few months at least, as it was hard to pinpoint the exact time, but the taste that he had been given was like a small piece of heaven. It's sweet, juicy flavor exploded on his tongue and felt oddly familiar, although he couldn't remember ever having casserole in his life. (And he had a _very_ good memory).

"Good, here, grab some plates will you?" The Soviet said, taking back the spoon.

The Nazi nodded in accord and went to get the plates while USSR tidied up and turned everything off. When Reich returned, USSR carefully emptied a tub of instant mashed potato that had been in the microwave, as an afterthought.

"Okay, grab a fork, and you're good to go."

Reich said nothing, only taking the nearest plate and boosting himself up onto the counter. USSR made himself comfortable leaning against said counter and enjoying his own food. Reich reached back over for his notebook, writing a message that could help convey how much he appreciated the meal.

"I've never tasted anything like this. Thank you for making it, and letting me help, it's delicious."

"Glad you like it," USSR replied, smiling proudly. "When you have a large family to take care of, you learn these things."

"Large family?" Reich rasped, "Why, you have a missus or lots of children?"

"Missus, no. Children, yes. Fifteen."

"Fifteen?!" Reich spluttered.

"Yes, most of them are not biological, but I do love them all the same. I believe you've met Estonia."

"Don't try to change the subject! Fifteen kids? How and, more importantly, _where_ do you find the time for them? I barely have time for a day, how are you mentally intact with fifteen children?"

"I had help."

"Oh? who helped?"

"Their grandpa. Russian Empire."

It was at this point that Reich resigned back to his notebook as his throat was beginning to hurt again.

"I don't believe I've met him before. You'll have to introduce us at some point."

"I'd rather not, he's not good with new people," USSR explained, looking down at his plate. He lifted his head and pointed his fork in Reich's direction. "Also, while I think on, eat your food, it'll go cold soon."

Reich smiled sheepishly and began eating again. Despite it being a simple-looking recipe, the garlic, herbs and wine had boosted the flavour tenfold. The meat chunks had tenderized perfectly, allowing the wine that had soaked into them to meet his tongue and fill his mouth with the signature sweet, warm taste. Reich had almost groaned at the welcome warmth before remembering that he had company. The leftover wine had been poured into two glasses and was shared between the two countries. It wasn't much, and the pair of them knew how to hold their alcohol, so neither of them were drunk. Maybe a bit tipsy. Little conversation was exchanged, but it didn't feel awkward or forced. Instead it felt natural. When the wine and casserole had been finished, Reich put down his plate and lifted his head to look at USSR.

"Thank you." he said.

"You're welcome."

The Nazi said nothing, but was glad his thanks was acknowledged.

"Okay, I'll wash the dishes, you put them away okay?"

Reich nodded in accord and grabbed a tea towel from underneath the sink and made to start drying the plates that USSR was already washing. As he reached for the second plate though, he noticed that the Soviet had rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscled forearms. Reich stared, settling himself into a trance-like state. He felt blood rush south and felt a hot flush dance across his cheeks.

'Noooooo,' he though in dismay, 'You're not a hormonal teenager, you're an adult, control yourself! It's a pair of arms for Pangaea's sake!'

It did nothing to relieve the effects, and Reich was suddenly grateful for wearing loose-fitting pyjama pants. He prayed to whoever was listening that nothing would give away his situation, as it would be deathly embarrassing to explain. He remembered his conclusion from earlier. He felt his blush creeping down his neck also and desperately tried to will it away. It halted in it's path, but it must've been visible.

"You okay? You look red. You're not drunk are you?" USSR questioned, looking at him.

"I- No, I'm not drunk," Reich rasped, unable to look USSR in the eyes and hurriedly trying to change the topic.

"You sure?"

"Mhm, just... um..." he stammered, unable to come up with an excuse.

"How much alcohol is in this thing..." USSR said sceptically, picking up the now empty bottle and reading the label. Reich was grateful for USSR's not probing into it, so said nothing to deter him from his search. Now it got awkward. USSR finished washing the last fork, rolled his sleeves back down and adjusted his jumper. He looked at a watch sitting on the counter that Reich didn't notice before. Reich was grateful that his arousal from before seemed to have lessened, no longer making him feel like he was going to die of embarrassment. He was also grateful that USSR didn't seem to have noticed his predicament. If he did, he didn't say anything.

"It's only 2:40," the Soviet said, sounding surprised. "Do you have anything else you need to do?"

The Nazi shook his head.

"Okay, that works for me because I've got an appointment with somebody for 4:30," USSR said, looking almost, sad? "I _do_ want to see you again though, can I have your number?"

"W-What?"

USSR laughed.

"Sorry, no casual way to ask... Can I... Borrow your phone for a second, please?"

"Uh, sure..." Reich said, pointing over at the bedside table where his phone was currently sitting.

"Thanks," Soviet said, picking it up. "Password?"

"Oh, give it." Reich said, putting down the tea towel and reaching for his phone. He unlocked it and gave it back to USSR. He typed something and pulled out his own phone.

"There you go, you now have my number, and I have yours. Text me sometime won't you?"

Reich felt like he could die of silent excitement. He now had a hot guy's number!

"O-Okay... Yeah," he said quickly, recovering from his epiphany.

"Well, I have to go, this appointment of mine's gonna be fun," The Soviet deadpanned, rolling his eyes. The sight was almost comical.

"Okay, you'd better go then, if it's someone that important," Reich forced out.

"Not _overly_ important, but something I'd rather not miss. Thank you for letting me borrow your car by the way," USSR said, putting his coat back on and heading towards the door.

"No problem."

"Bye Reich, talk to you soon."

"Bye USSR, feel free t-to stop by."

"Oh I plan to," Soviet quipped with a smile.

And with that, USSR was out of the door and gone. Reich made no movements for a few seconds, making sure that he was gone before breaking out into a wide smile. He flopped down on his bed and threw his arms above his head in jubilation then immediately regretting it. His shoulder's condition had slipped his mind.

'Ow... Shouldn't have done that...' Reich groaned. As painful as it was, it barely scratched the surface when it came to his good mood. He had been cooked a wonderful meal by a handsome guy, and had then gotten the same guy's number, even being encouraged to get in contact with him!

'A pretty successful day if I do say so myself.' he thought, smiling stupidly. He was going to look forward to seeing USSR again, and _this_ time he was going to have a plan. He was going to be friends with him. He might need somebody else to watch his back in the upcoming months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> German Words:  
> Du dummer dummkopf - You stupid fool  
> Vögeln - Fuck
> 
> Russian Words:  
> нет - No


	5. Innuendos Lead To Dates It Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reich is making a slow recovery with USSR's help, but is still feeling down somewhat. Italy tries to cheer him up with puppies, but they run into USSR while they are out. Italy has to leave (plot convenience) and USSR decides to spend the rest of the day with Reich. They end up going on a date, and our favourite Nazi goes back to USSR's house for the night. (Spoiler Alert!) Nothing funky happens, just innuendo, BUUUUT they kiss, and that's fun, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the fifth chapter in the series, kudos to you for making it this far! I thank you for bearing with me while I try to find a regular update schedule for this book, as I still have faith in it! I'm thinking every two week? If you actually read this bit, please let me know in the comments what you think about it, I need third party input.
> 
> As usual, translations at the end!
> 
> Please enjoy!

It had been about a week and four days since USSR had first made an appearance in Third Reich's life, and since then the two had been texting regularly. The Soviet had been helping Reich's recovery in any way he could and the Nazi's throat had been making a slow recovery, with him now able to talk for extended periods of time. The bruising had remained, but it no longer hurt until they were pressed and it didn't need much attention now. His shoulder, on the other hand, had almost completely healed. There was now a dark-ish scar left where he had been stabbed. The scar tissue was still sensitive but not painful, and Reich expected the sensitivity to fade like all his other scars. The ones on his arms in particular had healed pretty well, so he assumed that the same would apply here. Then again, they were _much_ smaller than a full-on stab wound. Reich had started self-harming about two thirds of the way through the war, when he felt most helpless and realized he was losing. Nobody knew about their existence or their cause except Italy and Japan, and _they_ still treated him like a normal country. Reich had been weighing his options and debating whether or not he should tell USSR about the scars, but had ultimately decided not to. It wasn't important, and he was getting better. He didn't cut as often as he used to. If anything, it was rarely that he did and he now actually made a conscious effort to stop drinking and scarring himself. Nowadays, he just kept bandages on his arms at all times as a prevention method. It had been working so far. USSR had seen his torso scars and seemed fine with it and there was no indication that he would dislike them anywhere else, but Reich didn't want to take that chance. He felt like he could call USSR a friend and he liked the Russian too much to lose him over some old cuts.

It was this particular problem that had been nagging at Reich as he was out walking that afternoon with Italy. Italy had been talking animatedly about something or other, but Reich found himself unable to reciprocate the enthusiasm, instead finding his thoughts wandering. Italy seemed to notice the zoned-out look and generic responses. They walked a few more paces until the Nazi began to scuff his boots along the pavement and Italy decided enough was enough.

"Reich, you doing okay?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking about some things."

"That's dangerous. Care to share?"

"Not really. You don't want to know about it."

"Ooh, why? You thinking about that hunk USSR again?"

"Hell no!" the German spluttered. feeling his face flush almost immediately. Italy laughed at Reich's mortified, blushing face.

"Oh mio dio! You are!" Italy teased, doubling over with laughter. "You pervert! Of all things, just thinking about him makes you _that_ flustered?" Reich growled in frustration and hit Italy as hard as he dared without it being deemed as aggressive. Italy didn't seem to mind, but he did make an effort to stop laughing.

"Don't be so loud, please! I _wasn't_ thinking about Sowjet, now change the subject!" Reich pleaded. embarrassed. Countries were beginning to stare; they had caused quite the disturbance.

"O-Okay then-" Italy coughed, riding out his laughing fit. "You want to know how Germany's doing?"

"Er, yes, actually... I do," the Nazi answered, regaining his composure and trying to appear as normal as he possibly could.

"Buono per te then, I have good news."

"How good?" Reich queried, pushing his hands into the pockets of his coat to protect them from the biting cold.

"Pretty good actually. Germany's doing just fine now that he has a girlfriend~"

"Oh? Who is it?"

"Well... That's the bad part. I know you have bad history with Poland, but Germania's gone on a few dates with her since she left the hospital a few weeks back. They're both a recognised couple now."

Reich was silent for a few moments, mulling over the new information he had received, taking his time processing it. Italy almost began to worry when he head the Nazi mumble something.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said I'm glad Polen's still around. Deutschland's happy with her, isn't he?" Reich asked, sounding hopeful.

"From what I've seen, yes. They seem to be doing pretty well together. I hear Germany plans to move in with her."

The German averted his gaze, once again focusing on the floor and scuffing his boot soles on the pavement. he said nothing, only humming in affirmation. He no longer harboured any hatred or desire towards Poland, but he wasn't friendly with her either and it felt bad to be talking about hers and Germany's lives behind their backs.

"I'm sorry," Italy said hurriedly, "I've just gone and ruined this whole day now haven't I?" He planted his palm on his forehead, instantly regretting it. It hurt.

"No, Italien, it's fine. You haven't ruined it."

Italy knew better. Reich was obviously in a dampened mood, moreso than before, but in that moment, Italy had an epiphany, allowing him to remember something he had seen a couple of days ago that he hoped would cheer up his friend.

"I know something that will make this better!" he exclaimed, taking hold of Reich's arm and marching forward. "Da questa parte!"

"Wha-What? Wait! Where are we going?" Reich stammered. Due to him being shorter in stature, he had to resort to jogging to keep up with Italy's strides. He wasn't impressed, but he wasn't going to remind Italy of how much shorter he was.

"You'll see, it's not far!"

Reich huffed in annoyance, his breath clouding in front of him but quickly being whipped backwards.

"Scheiße, okay."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Italy's idea, it turns out, worked after all. Italy had taken them to a pet shop further down the street. He had known that Reich favoured dogs above all other pets, and had had a German Shepherd as a child. It wasn't a particularly happy memory, but when both Italy and Reich were around twelve, Reich had still lived in the forest with his dad, they had gone for a day out with Stasi, Reich's first ever pet. Stasi was a dog with a beautiful, thick, silky coat, large brown eyes and an unforgettably happy smile that she seemed to wear even in her sleep. Reich had grown to cherish her dearly over the nine years he had kept her and had loved her like she was his daughter. He had made his love for her so unmistakably obvious. This particular day on the forest's outskirts was just like any other. At least, it seemed that way when it first started out. Italy had come over to play, and, with permission from Reich's dad, Reichtangle, had coaxed both Reich and Stasi out of the house and to the nearby meadow. They had been to this meadow a million times before and knew the landscape and Stasi loved it too, what with it having lots of open space to run and to just be a happy dog. Italy had brought a backpack full of food that day, intending to make a day out of this and had told Reich to being some treats for Stasi as well as a squeaky ball. Letting Italy set up camp, so to speak, Reich had gone off to play with his dog. Italy had finished setting up, but decided not to put food out until Reich and Stasi returned. He called out to his friend to let him know that everything was set, but upon hearing no response, he became worried. He had gotten up and began to search for the German, but was unable to find him anywhere. He called and called, but to no avail. He started to become panicky. The Italian was about to have a panic attack when he heard Reich shouting his name. He spun wildly, trying to locate there the sound was coming from, eventually seeing a patch of red amongst the grass. Reich was still screaming for him. Italy ran towards it, hoping against all hopes that it was his friend and not just something that looked like him.

It _was_ Reich, just... Not as he had imagined...

The Nazi was hunched over what appeared to be an empty bag of potatoes on first glance. Then it moved. Then it whimpered. Then Reich released a loud sob and trembled like an autumn leaf. Upon closer inspection, the 'potato sack' turned out to be Stasi, her torso impaled on a rogue branch.

"Serbatoio! Pangaea's blessings, what happened!?"

"We-we-we were playing- a-and then she tripped and... " The boy stammered, a shuddering breath interrupting his sentence, his face wet with tears.

Stasi shook and her paws desperately reached forward towards Reich, strangely quiet, almost accepting of her fate. Reich by this point was overtaken with despair, his small body wracked with sobs and crying out pleads that Stasi could not have hoped to understand in her wildest dreams. Reich stared in shock, unable to believe that such a day could be ruined so soon, and by something so traumatising. He sank to his knees beside Reich, watching as his friend helplessly grasped at Stasi's forepaws, cradling them gently, fat tears rolling down his face.

"Stasi, no! You're not-not allowed to die! If you do, I-I-I'll never forgive you!"

Stasi just whined sadly, seeming to sense his panic. She wagged her tail in a pathetic attempt in a pathetic attempt to cheer him up.

"N-Nein! Böser hund! You're not s-supposed to just... just _give up_!"

Despite Stasi making little noise and barely moving, her actions slowly decreased until all that could be heard was her wheezing breath.

"Nein! Stasi! Don't close you eyes, don't do it! I won't forgive you! You've got to stay awake! Bitte!"

While Reich begged Stasi to stay alive, Italy decided the best thing to do would be to alert an adult. He pushed himself up and ran back to Reich's house, and when he Italy finally made it back and made a mad dash for Reich's father. Upon hearing the bad news, Reichtangle immediately dropped the plates he was washing and bolted out of the house, not caring to close the front door. Italy ran after him as fast as he could, but due to being many years younger, was unable to match the elder's speed. Italy made it back to the accident site perhaps two minutes after Reichtangle had. By that point, it was clear that Stasi had breathed her last and Reich was bawling into his father's shirt, clutching on for dear life, as though Reichtangle would leave him too. The Elder had made sure to turn his son away from the scene and kept a hand on Reich's back to keep it that way. He was gently rocking his son in an effort to comfort him, saddened himself by the loss of a beloved pet. It wasn't obvious that Reichtangle was upset as he lacked most defining facial features, such as a mouth. He mostly communicated through sign language or had Austro-Hungary translate for him. Italy didn't know sign language properly and Austro-Hungary wasn't around, so he just had to trust that Reich knew what his father would be telling him. It took a long time for Reich's tears to run dry, but the death affected him for years to come. Stasi's death loomed over him for just short of six years, causing a depression for the duration of that time. Reich hadn't gotten another pet since, but had still expressed his love of dogs. He had seen other countries with dogs out on the streets and had occasionally gone up to the owner and asked to pet their dog. Previously, the usual answer had been yes, but since the war ended, Reich had made a lot of enemies and the answer was now usually no. Actually, thinking about this, Italy was beginning to wonder whether or not this was a good idea after all...

"What is that, a pet shop?"

"Uh... Yes, it is! A pet shop!"

"And you brought me here... Warum?"

"I saw something in here a few days ago that I thought you'd like. I just thought that-"

Italy didn't get to finish his sentence before Reich shot past him, sending him into a daze.

"Buon dio!"

Reich had pressed himself up against the shop's window, his face lighting up with child-like delight. The thing that Italy had seen was a new batch of German Shepherd puppies that had been delivered to the shop. There was at least seven little pups running around in a pen placed in front of the window that Reich was currently looking into. The Nazi was in his element.

" **Ach. Mein. Gott**!" Reich cried, gazing longingly at the little puppies running and rolling around. "Italy! We have to go inside, I need a closer look at those puppies!" he exclaimed, standing up and turning to face his friend.

"Thought you might. Go on in then, I'm right behind you."

Reich squeaked in excitement and turned to run into the shop before giving an awkward cough and attempting to regain any shreds of his dignity. Italy laughed at him, but followed him anyway. Reich had already knelt down beside the pup's pen and had a hand in with them, letting them get used to his scent so he could play with them. The German's eyes shone with unmistakable glee. Italy smiled to himself, trying to recall the last time Reich had smiled like this. He couldn't remember. The Italian watched as Reich let the puppies chase his hand around their pen, running after the new, strange thing. Reich had a pleased grin plastered on his face. He was enjoying himself, just looking at the pups and enjoying their company. Italy busied himself with a wall full of aquariums filled with goldfish, leaving the Nazi to his own devices. As Reich played, he noticed that one of the more grey puppies was a bit faster than the others and tended to bully them out of the way.

"Slow down there Bärchen, give the others a chance, hm?"

The puppy gave no indication of hearing him. Losing interest in the smell of the German's hand and seeming to have grown accustomed to it by now. Instead, the pup wandered off back to the window wall and sat, looking out at the world.

'Thoughtful little thing, aint'cha?' Reich thought to himself, shuffling over to watch the pup as it in turn watched the street outside. It placed a tiny paw against the glass, almost wistfully.

"You don't want to go out there Bärchen, believe me. It's cold," the German laughed to himself. The grey ball of fluff turned its head round to face him. It had pale blue eyes, stark in contrast with it's near black muzzle and brownish-gray coat.

"You're beautiful, aren't you?" Reich muttered, more to himself than the dog. He slowly extended his arm towards it, palm up to appear non-threatening. The puppy tilted its head slightly in assessment, before trotting over to press its face into his hand. Reich felt his smile stretch impossibly wider. This dog reminded him of Stasi, despite looking the polar opposite. The memory of her had left a scar, but it didn't hurt o badly anymore to think of her. Besides, he couldn't dwell on it forever. He giggled as the puppy's wet nose tickled his hand, then quickly tried to pass it off as a cough. It wasn't fooling anyone though. The German adjusted his position and let his hand trail over the puppy's soft, silky fur, relishing in the feeling after so long. The dog clearly enjoyed this, pushing it's head against his palm, encouraging more pats. Reich was only too happy to oblige. He must've been sat there for only Pangaea knows how long before Italy's interest in fish wore off and he came looking for his friend again.

"Hey, you having fun over here?"

"Ja, I am. Thank's for bringing me here Italy, I think I needed this."

"I _know_ you did, that's why I brought you! Italy said, relieved that his plan hadn't backfired. A sudden 'Ting' and vibration in his pocket had the Italian pulling out his phone to see what it was for.

"Oh, è il Giappone," he said, still looking at his screen. "I'm just gonna call him, won't be too long. I'll be outside, yeah?"

"Okay, take as long as you need," Reich smiled, rolling the puppy around gently.

Italy started a call and left the shop, leaving Reich entirely on his own. He didn't seem to mind though, he enjoyed the company of the dogs. More than most other countries if he was honest. Maybe not Japan, Italy or USSR. Oh... USSR... He paused his movements in the pen in favor of thinking more about him. USSR had been strangely attentive in taking care of him after that _fateful_ day at the shop. Reich almost laughed with how cliché it sounded in his head. He noticed his feet were falling asleep so he stood himself up and walked a few painful paces around, trying to regain feeling in them. He walked up to a wall of colourful dog collars, admiring the shiny tags, each one carefully engraved with a different name or pattern. Some had spikes, some had studs, some were embroidered, some were printed and some were just plain. Reich was just admiring a white studded collar with _Mira_ beautifully engraved on its tag when a tap on his shoulder made him jump, twisting around almost painfully and raising his arms in a defensive manner, his pulse elevating immediately and hammering in his head. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was just USSR. The nation held up his hands in mock surrender.

"You're _still_ jumpy Reich," he chuckled.

"You idiot, I could have hurt you."

"You? Hurt me? No offence, but you're not exactly made of muscle Reich," USSR laughed. "I would know, I've seen your body."

"Geh weg, I'm strong enough for my current lifestyle."

"Oh? And, pray tell, what lifestyle is that?"

"One that's none of your business," Reich sniffed indignantly, tilting his head to look at USSR properly. He didn't like how much taller the Russian was, as it caused him to strain his neck in order to meet his eyes.

"Okay then, short-arse. Whatever you say."

"Don't call me that,” Reich deadpanned.

"I can call you what I want, Коротышка. What are you going to do about it?"

Although it pained the Nazi to admit it, USSR had a point. He couldn't really do anything about it unless he wanted to face consequences, which he didn't. Instead he mumbled grumpily and silently fumed. USSR took a moment to notice what Reich had been looking at.

"I didn't take you as the 'bondage' type, Reich."

"W-What!?" The German stammered, looking up at USSR. The Soviet nodded at the shelf.

"Collars. You planning on spicing up your sex life?"

"I wasn't shopping for _me_ , just looking! And my sex life is none of your concern!"

"I was going to say. Didn't think you had any pets. You never mentioned any in our texts and when I came over last week I didn't see any signs of a pet."

"I _don't_ have pets, I was just admiring the handiwork you pervert!"

USSR just laughed at Reich's flustered state.

"Be that as it may, I am glad I saw you out here. I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Ask me what..." Reich seethed, ready to throttle the country in front of him.

"I wanted to ask you... Er..." USSR paused for a moment, his confidence from before failing him, his voice faltering. "Wanted to ask if you would go on a date with me..."

Reich paused, giving the words that USSR had just said time to sink in. Had he really just asked that, or did he imagine it? His murderous intent towards the Soviet seemed to dissipate almost immediately. He seemed serious about this, albeit a bit nervous.

"Y-You're asking me out?" Reich asked cautiously, wanting confirmation.

"Yes." USSR said, making a visible effort to muster up some more courage. "I assumed that after that night at the bar you'd be interested but-" The Russian didn't have time to complete his sentence before Reich launched himself at USSR's hulking figure, enveloping him in a hug.

"I shall never forgive you for that 'bondage' comment," he said, muffled slightly by USSR's chest and earning a nervous chuckle from the Russian, "But," the German lifted his head up, offering a smile to calm USSR's nerves. "It's a yes, I'll go on a date with you." The Russian heaved a great sigh of relief, smiling at him. He wrapped his own arms around Reich's waist, grateful for the contact.

"О слава богу, you would not believe how scared I was of you saying no." He gave Reich a smile of his own.

"Well, I wasn't going to, you can be sure of that."

They remained in their embrace for a few moments more, just gazing at each other. It couldn't have been longer than three seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. USSR shifted slightly, moving his face closer to Reich's. The Nazi reciprocated also, not quite meeting USSR's lips. He felt the Russian's breath on his face, he was so close! He just had to lean forward a bit more and-

Italy suddenly reappeared in the shop's doorway, brandishing his phone in one hand and wearing a look of annoyance.

"Serbatoio, I'm sorry but I have to leav- Oooh...." he trailed off as he saw what was going on. Reich sprang away, out of reach of USSR's arms in a second, nearly falling over in the process. "Sorry Reich but I've got to go. Japan's stuck at work 'coz he's had his car towed. Seems like you've got yourself a lift home already though." he smirked, gesturing to USSR.

"He's not my lift home," Reich growled, glaring at Italy, annoyed that he interrupted them but it wasn't like he was ever going to admit that.

"Woah, okay, sorry!" The Italian held up his hands in surrender, a little shocked that Reich seemed so annoyed at him. "You two have fun, and don't get into trouble!" he added, practically skipping out of the door. Reich was shaking with repressed emotions that he wasn't sure he could've put names to, even if he'd tried. A hand on his shoulder had Reich turning around again. It was USSR again.

"Are you busy right now?" he questioned, looking slightly amused at Reich's annoyance.

"Not anymore."

"Good, we're going for that date now."

"Jetzt!?"

"Yes, no time like the present!" USSR declared, taking hold of Reich's hand and marching them out of the door. Reich didn't fight the hand holding, but as USSR was at least a good head taller than him, he had to jog even more than he had to with Italy just to keep up with his strides.

"Sowjet! Damn you! Walk a bit slower!"

The Russian chuckled. A sound so low it sent shivers through Reich's entire being.

"Come on short-arse, walk a bit faster! There's a cafe not far from here that I think you'd like."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day was already late when Reich was out with Italy, but now the winter sun was sinking from its perch, sending golden ribbons streaking through the sky, each one dripping with splashes of pink and purple. The sun-soaked streets were relatively clear now that the tea-time traffic had dispersed, leaving only a few countries still out and about. Reich had been admiring the sky through the window of the cafe that USSR had brought him to, absent-mindedly tapping the table. This particular establishment was known as The Hideout, as told by a big sign out front with big, white, swirly lettering. The German had passed this cafe multiple times before but he had never had enough cash to actually get anything. Now that someone else was paying, though, he wasn't about to complain, so he allowed himself to enjoy this and didn't ask questions. The whole shop smelt deliciously of sugar, fresh coffee and chocolate, with a subtle hint of fruit. It was incredibly welcoming, what with its friendly atmosphere, but Reich felt out of place, as though he was intruding in some sacred place. He knew it was stupid, but it still gnawed at his mind, making him borderline anxious. USSR saved him from himself, however, when he returned with their drinks.

"Here you go Reich," he said with a smile, handing the German his hot chocolate. Instead of drinking it straight away, Reich wrapped his hands around the cup, letting the heat sink in. USSR made himself comfortable opposite, instead opting to drink his coffee without letting it cool anymore than it already had. He folded his arms on the tabletop and leaned forward slightly, coffee still in hand.

"Since I've only talked to you face to face a grand total of twice, care to tell me a bit more about yourself?" The Soviet asked, raising the coffee to his lips.

"Ähm, klar. What do you want to know?"

"Anything, tell me something interesting."

"Aha, I'm afraid there's nothing of great interest about me." Reich huffed a laugh.

"Oh I bet there is," USSR countered, smiling again. "Here, I'll help you out. For example, what's your favourite color? Oh, I know! What's your favourite ice-cream flavour?"

"Isn't that a bit random?" The Nazi asked, offering a small half-smile of his own.

"It is, but now I'm interested. Tell me."

"Okay, fine. I guess it'd have to be chocolate. In case you haven't guessed, I like chocolate _a lot_ ," Reich gestured to the drink in his hands.

"That's fine, I like chocolate too. Will any chocolate do for you, or do you have a preferred brand?"

" _Oh no_ , I prefer dark chocolate, so Bournville is always my go-to," Reich gushed. He paused for a moment as another thought hit him. "Then again, it's been awhile since I last had some. Being broke sucks." He punctuated his sentence by finally taking a sip from his drink. "Who _isn't_ these days though?"

USSR hummed in agreement. He looked thoughtful, seeming to have forgotten his coffee for the time being.

"Vergib mir, have I ruined the moment?" Reich fretted, worried that he had said something wrong.

"No, you haven't. You just got me thinking."

"Why, what are you thinking of? Is it something you want to talk about?"

"No, it's nothing like that," The Russian was quick to assure him, "I was just going to ask you about your injuries. Are they healing well?"

"Oh, yeah, they're doing surprisingly well actually, look." As if to prove his point, Reich moved the arm that had had its shoulder stabbed. It no longer hurt to move it, but as his shirt brushed over the scarred flesh, it gave him a feeling akin to being tickled. He shuddered, trying not to giggle out loud.

"Good to see it's healing," USSR said, finishing the last of his coffee. "You don't have any pain anywhere, do you?"

"No, none at all," Reich replied, turning back to his own drink. "Although, I do wish it wasn't so sensitive. It almost tickles."

"It tickles?" The Russian laughed. "Didn't know you were ticklish."

"Sh-Shut up! I didn't _ask_ to be ticklish, don't tease me for it!"

"Okay, sorry. Anyway, I've a request to make of you."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, what is it?"

"I don't know what kind of job you do, but if it includes heavy lifting, please try to refrain from doing that. It might damage your wounds or reopen them."

Reich felt his face go red. Not because he was touched, but because he was embarrassed. He didn't have a job, but hadn't had the heart to tell USSR until now.

"Um... Sowjet, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before but-" he cut himself off. It was much harder to say than he thought it would be. "I uh... I don't have a job. I've been on benefits for about four years now." He hung his head in shame. It was something he hated admitting, but no matter how hard he had tried before, he wasn't able to find a job of any kind. He hated himself for that. "Sorry for misleading you."

"You didn't mislead me, Reich. I just made assumptions. If anyone should be sorry, it's me." USSR reached a tentative hand across the table, searching out Reich's own. He ran his thumb along the side or Reich's palm, trying to get the Nazi to give him his hand to hold. The action startled Reich, making him look up. He didn't let his hand leave the cup, causing USSR to just pull his hand back. USSR seemed genuine in his apology though. Why was he apologising? Didn't USSR think of him as lazy? Didn't he mind him being unemployed?

"It... It doesn't _bother_ you, does it?" the German asked cautiously, still clutching onto his cup as though for dear life and trying to ignore the feeling of regret gnawing at his heartstrings at not taking USSR's hand.

"Нет? Why would it?" USSR looked him dead in the eyes. If anything, he looked offended that Reich would suggest such a thing.

"I-I don't know... Usually it doesn't go down well when people find out you're on benefits..."

"Well, I _don't_ mind. In fact, I used to be on benefits myself. I know what it's like." All of a sudden, Reich regretted not taking the Soviet's hand when he had offered it. The Nazi took his mind off of his thoughts by finishing his drink and glancing out of the window at the increasingly dark town square. Due to the disappearance of the winter sun, the streets and square were bathed in darkness, occasionally interrupted by the streetlamps that were beginning to turn on now, casting long shadows against the buildings surrounding the square. A soft, warm, yellow glow shone from each streetlamp and the windows of shops that were still open, pushing back the darkness and making the square seem a little more alive despite the obvious lack of people and natural light.

"You said you were on benefits before..." The Nazi mumbled, just loud enough that USSR could hear him and turned himself to face the Russian again. "What did you do to get out of it?"

"I found something I was good at, and I started my own business. It just grew from there," USSR explained, looking proud of himself. "Turns out these hands are good at fixing things."

"Oh? What kind of things?"

"Well, I'm an Industrial Engineer. I used to work in the military, fixing the tanks, guns and other machines they used. When I was released, I put my new skills to use, and now I have a business fixing machines for large companies."

"You don't do it on your own, do you?"

"Oh, no! I couldn't _possibly_ do it all on my own, I have employees that also go out and see to the clients. I go out to clients sometimes too. It makes me happy; fixing things."

"I'm actually impressed. You seem to have your life all set up with strong foundations, whereas there's just me, unable to get a job and stuck with a mild alcohol addiction."

Reich nudged the lip of his cup as he spoke, twirling it around his finger. The Soviet didn't seem to mind the confession and lack of eye contact. Instead, a look of understanding crossed his face.

"Hey, Reich, I've heard somewhere that realisation of a problem is the first step to getting it fixed," he said, sounding sympathetic.

"Es ist kein problem. More of a bad habit really..."

"Oh whatever you call it, you're trying to fix it, and _that's_ what matters," USSR said. "I also have something else I want to know, if I may ask."

"Oh, yeah sure, ask away."

"You asked how I got out of benefits, and I told you it was because I found something I was good at, yeah?" He waited for Reich to nod in confirmation. "So, Reich, what are you good at?"

"Um... Well... I can draw, ich vermute..." The Nazi's voice trailed off. "Can't have been _that_ good though, I got rejected from art college."

"Oh come now, you can't be terrible. Can you draw for me?" USSR asked, letting go of Reich's hand in favor of pulling a pen from his coat pocket and pushing a napkin towards him.

"Erm, okay?" Reich said, sounding unsure of himself, but taking the pen and paper anyway. "What do you want me to draw?"

"Anything. Here, try drawing that takeaway across the street." USSR gestured his thumb in the direction of a small building with it's name in Chinese lettering. Despite it being a simple Chinese takeaway, the outside was quite elaborately decorated, with little carvings of dragons and imps across the doorway. Reich didn't mind the detail, he preferred fine art.

He obediently set to work, carefully mapping out the building's proportions and sketching the decoration with intricate detail. It only took a few moments before the German was satisfied with his work, pushing the napkin back towards USSR.

"It's just a quick sketch, nothing fancy. But, it's the best I can do under the circumstances."

USSR picked up the napkin and held it up to his face, marveling at the detail. Despite it being 'rushed' as Reich claimed, it was drawn with scary accuracy, with cross-hatch shading on the carvings and alcoves.

"Reich. This is Поразительно! How is this just rough work?" The Soviet questioned, still awestruck. Reich's face flushed.

"I have to admit, it is pretty good. Just not good enough for the art college I tried to get into."

"I'm not joking around when I say I'd have let you in, this is great!"

"Please stop, you flatter me too much Sowjet."

"I'm serious! How did you not get in?"

"Well... Turns out there's a lot of competition, and lots of the participants are much more competitive about it." Reich gave a noncommittal shrug. There was a pause as USSR was still admiring Reich's drawing.

"That is a Страшный позор. You really are a good artist." The Russian tried to hand the napkin back, but Reich put his hands out to stop him.

"You can keep it if you want, I don't need it."

"Oh, спасибо." He folded it and slipped it into the same pocket as the pen. "You don't have the time on you, do you?" USSR asked, only just noticing the darkness outside. It looked like it was late, but with it being Midwinter, the sun set later than usual anyway, making it harder to tell the time.

"Yeah, I do. Here," Reich replied, pulling out his phone and placing it on the table, turning it on so that USSR could see the time. The screen showed that it was half past ten. "Oh... It's surprisingly late..." He said disbelievingly, looking at the square outside. It was still as dark as before, but now the temperature must've dropped, as snow had started to fall, with a fresh layer already covering the ground. Long winter nights indeed.

"Reich, I know for a fact you didn't bring a car, and it's dark now, I don't want you walking home in this. Do you want to spend the night at mine? I have a driver I can call if you'd rather go home?"

'He has his own driver!?' he wondered to himself, not quite able to believe it. 'Is this guy for real?' The Nazi decided not to say anything about it, but USSR had a point. It really _was_ dark, and he had lots of enemies that made this town their regular haunt. He didn't feel like getting attacked tonight, at least not so soon after his first bout of injuries about a week ago. He also didn't feel like going home. It wasn't like there was anything waiting for him back there except his beloved car and his microwave. Also, getting to see USSR's house didn't seem like such a bad thing, and he _was_ enjoying the Soviet's company, so...

"No thanks, I don't want to go home. I'd rather come back to yours."

"Отлично, it's settled! I'll just go pay for our stuff and call Ukraine, won't be long."

'I guess Ukraine's the driver?' Reich wondered to himself as he watched USSR stand up and walked over to the counter, leaving Reich on his own again. The Nazi picked up his phone, placing it safely back into his pocket, and decided to make himself useful by picking up their cups and taking them to the nearest bin. When he looked back over at USSR, he was on the phone with what Reich could only assume was the 'driver' he had mentioned. He laughed at something then hung up. Something in Reich shifted, and he felt oddly jealous. He quickly dismissed it as a stray emotion and busied himself with retrieving his and USSR's coats. USSR sauntered back over with a smile.

"He won't be long, we just have to wait outside for him."

Reich nodded in acknowledgement and the pair of them pushed their chairs under the table. USSR put on his coat, waiting for Reich to do the same. When he did, he held out his hand for a second time. Reich hesitated for a moment, some invisible force holding him back. It was a painfully long time before he realized that, in actuality, nobody could tell him no. He shyly took the offered hand, pretending not to notice USSR's piercing gaze and followed the Soviet out of the cafe. The pair stood in the snow at the roadside for about five minutes only before a shiny Bentley as black as the night itself pulled up in front of them. The front window rolled down, revealing a country with a blue band across the top half of his face and a yellow band on the other half of his face. He also wore a pair of dark sunglasses that reminded Reich somewhat of America. 'So this is Ukraine?' he thought to himself. 'Guess he wasn't joking about the 'private driver' thing.'

"Вечір, сер," the country nodded at USSR. "This must be Reich, yes?" He turned to look at the Nazi with a surprisingly warm smile.

The German in question shuffled awkwardly He wasn't used to somebody with sunglasses that dark looking at him with a friendly gaze. He held USSR's hand a bit tighter than before, praying that the Russian wouldn't notice. It also felt embarrassing to be called out like that and put in the spotlight.

"Erm... Ja, hello."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir!" He looked back at USSR. "You two just gonna stand there, or are you gonna get in the car? In case you haven't noticed, it's snowing."

"Yes Ukraine, we noticed." USSR huffed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We were out here freezing our asses off waiting for you." As USSR spoke, he opened the back door, nodding at Reich to let him know he was to get in first.

"Well unfortunately for you, Sir, there's a thing called a 'Speed Limit'. Don't know if you've heard of it, but it helps keep the common people like me and Reich alive."

Reich was grateful for the friendly banter; it made him feel a little less out of place. He stepped into the car, marveling at the soft leather seats and the excess space that was still left in the car despite its passengers. USSR followed not a moment later, shutting the door and getting comfortable.

"Straight home, Sir?" Ukraine asked.

"Yep, straight home." USSR confirmed, putting on his seatbelt and stretching his legs out. Reich put his own seatbelt on and looked out of the tinted windows. It was snowing more heavily now, with practically no life left in the streets. Most shops had closed for the night, leaving just the glow from the streetlamps to light the way. It felt nice to be in a warm car, admiring the outside world. It was almost like looking at the world through different eyes. The car set off and the cafe and town square soon disappeared from view. Instead of initiating any kind of conversation with USSR or Ukraine, Reich opted to look out of the window. The images flashed by so quickly, it was sort-of exciting, as stupid as that sounded. A cough from behind him made the German turn around. It was only USSR.

"You having fun there?"

"Yes actually, this feels so strange though. I feel like I'm intruding, everything here looks so... _clean_ , I'm almost scared of touching something."

The Russian let out a low rumble of laughter.

"You don't know how many times I've heard that."

"Heh, I can imagine..." Reich said, turning back to look out of the window. By this point they had left the town and streetlamps behind and were now travelling along a main road. Streetlamps were placed sparingly here, decreasing light pollution and allowing Reich to see the stars.

"Hey, you can't be comfortable, pressed up against the window like that." USSR said. He shifted his position and patted the spot on the seat between his legs. "Come over here. Got something to show you."

Reich paused, cautious of where he would be sitting. It must've shown on his face, as USSR gave him an amused smile.

"Don't worry, I have no intention of pulling your jeans off, as enticing as that sounds."

Reich felt his face go pink, hoping that the darkness of the car would shield his face from view. He moved himself as USSR requested anyway, leaning back against his chest and stretching out on the back seat as USSR called through to the front seat.

"Ukraine!"

"Yes Sir?"

"Pull back the roof."

"Of course, Sir."

And with that, suddenly a section of the car's roof slid back to reveal a window, pointed straight up at the heavens above them. Reich's eyes lit up, looking at the sparkling flecks of silver in the pitch blackness of the sky. "You were right, Sowjet. This is better than the window." USSR chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around Reich's stomach and searching for the Nazi's hand. Reich let him, too preoccupied with looking at the sky. It was beautiful, and he had only ever heard of panoramic roofs, never actually seeing one in action.

"I love this car," the German said, barely a whisper.

"I gathered as much."

USSR rested his head atop Reich's own, looking up at the sky himself. It seemed no time at all before the car was slowing down on a gravel driveway leading up to a beautiful house that seemed to be a mix of Medieval and Modern. It didn't look big enough to be a mansion, but it was still big, by anyone's standards, with a raised porch and patio area. A good portion of the house was hidden by an assortment of trees, and the entirety of the grounds were covered in snow, only adding to the building's stunning beauty. There was a jutting section of the house that looked almost like a tower, complete with what looked like an observatory-esque dome and weathervane on top. A double-doored garage area on the west side of the building curved slightly inwards, giving the whole building a semi-circular feel.

"You live here!?" he questioned, keen for an answer. "This place is like a manor! At least now the 'personal driver' makes sense..."

"Yes, I have a lot of spare cash laying around, and I like my luxuries. You want to go in?"

"Of course! Isn't that why you brought me here? You _did_ offer."

Ukraine pulled the car to a stop, closed the panoramic roof, got out and opened the door for Reich.

"Th-Thank you..." the Nazi faltered, still unused to being waited on. He climbed out of the car awkwardly, his boots crunching into the snow.

"Don't mention it, Sir." Ukraine said, stepping back and letting Reich breathe in the cold air and admire the manor. It was still snowing, albeit more heavily than before. USSR had let himself out of the car after Reich, looking at his awestruck face.

"It's really something, isn't it?"

"Yeah... It is... I can't believe you're letting me stay here..."

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's cold, come on. Let's go inside," The Russian said, reaching for Reich's hand again. Reich met him halfway, enclosing his hand around USSR's palm and intertwining their fingers. He felt so lucky, as though he was on top of the world. He couldn't believe someone like _this_ would be interested in him, romantically or otherwise. Ukraine was already trying to park the car in the garage. Reich followed USSR dumbly towards the front door, dragged along by his hand. As they walked up to it, the door swung open. A country with a muted red skin tone and a white band across the center of her face stood there, smiling at USSR. She was just _slightly_ taller than Reich was.

"Labvakar, Kungs!" She piped. Her smile grew impossibly wider when she saw Third Reich. "I see you've brought a visitor!"

"Yes, Latvia, this is Reich."

"Um... Yes, hello..."

"Nice to meet you Sir! Can I take your coat?" She asked, closing the door behind them.

"Er..." Reich stuttered, looking at USSR for help. The Soviet just smiled and nodded. he released their hands in order to shrug his own coat off. "Sure?" he said, turning back to Latvia. The shorter country took his coat and hung it up on a rack next to the door. USSR also handed his coat over to Latvia.

"Thank you Latvia, if you'd let Russia know that his dad's home, that would be great. Also, please make sure that the east side of the house is undisturbed from now until morning unless the house is on fire or about to be detonated, okay?"

"That I can do Sir, have a nice night!"

"Thanks Lat, you too. Come on Reich, you need to see where you'll be sleeping tonight." USSR began walking away, gesturing for Reich to follow him. The Nazi followed without question, admiring the house on the way. The floor was a beautiful, rich Cherrywood that had obviously been recently polished or waxed, and now was like a mirror. There was a small bar area in a conservatory full of plants overlooking the back garden of the house, and from what Reich saw of the kitchen, it looked very chic and shiny. On their way to the staircase, they passed the lounge area. It was just full of squishy looking sofas and cushions of every colour and size were thrown haphazardly across the floor and couches. It also had a large TV in the middle of a wall filled with bookshelves. It looked like a very nice place to be. As USSR brought Reich up the stairs and to the first landing, the German felt it was an opportune moment to ask some questions and get some answers.

"Sowjet, just out of interest, how old is this house exactly?"

"Oh, I dunno actually. I just bought it because it looked nice and it served my purpose. Y'know, large family and all?"

"Oh... Yeah. Didn't you say you had fifteen children or something?"

"Yeah, I _said_ I had fifteen, but really I only have three biological ones. The rest of my 'children' are the staff you see around here, like Latvia and Ukraine. You have yet to meet the rest. Pangaea knows I'm older than them, and to me, they are like family."

"Woah. That's deep." Reich said, more to himself than USSR. "So, who are the three children? I've met Estonia, who else?"

"I have another son and a daughter. Russia is the oldest. I believe I mentioned him earlier with Latvia, and Belarus, my daughter, is the youngest."

"I don't _think_ I've met them. You'll have to introduce us sometime."

"If your paths cross, there's nothing stopping you. I'd go for Belarus first though, Russia can be a bit... Well... Just like his grandfather. I've already told you that you don't want to meet _him_."

By this time, they had reached the top of the stairs and were now standing on a small landing, from which several different doors led off. There was a large, round window overlooking the back garden, much like the conservatory downstairs on one wall, and the other side of the hallway had a balcony-like area cut off by banister rail, so that you could look down to the ground floor. From said window, the garden could now be observed properly. It was surrounded by a high privacy hedge and had pebble paths interlacing between flowerbeds to one side of the lawn. The flowerbeds had been cleverly planted so that all year round, different flowers would bloom. With it being winter, winter roses had sprung up, looking like flecks of burgundy paint against a pure white canvas of snow. Small patches of purple cyclamen were dotted about the flowerbeds also, adding more splashes of colour to the garden. USSR noticed his fascination and came to stand at his side. 

"It's nice to look at, isn't it?" he said, more to himself than Reich. Reich nodded anyway, still unable to believe that he was actually here and that he wasn't dreaming.

"I still don't get it," he said, tearing his gaze away from the snowy garden and looking at the Soviet instead. "You've helped me so much, and there's nothing I can offer you in return. Why do this to yourself? You're just making your life harder by including me in it."

"You are in no way _whatsoever_ hindering my life. I am helping you because we are kind of the same. Countries like us have to look out for each other, but we shouldn't expect payment for kindness."

"Now you've made me feel bad for questioning you."

"It is true, I don't know what else you want me to say," the Russian shrugged. He opened one of the doors, standing to the side to let Reich go in first.

"Are you sure you want to give me a room? I can just sleep on the couch you know, it's no problem."

"I insist, go on in," The Russian said, giving Reich a soft smile. Reich gave a smile back and allowed himself to enter the bedroom.

It was larger than he had expected with a seat on the windowsill and a double bed that looked incredibly soft. It made Reich tired just looking at it. The floor made of wood, much like the floor downstairs, but this one was covered by a black faux fur rug, covering almost all of the floor. This room also had a bookshelf that didn't seem just for decoration. As Reich let his gaze linger on some of the books' spines, he noticed that they were all books on nature of some kind, be it animals, plants or rocks. Reich didn't mind. If he couldn't sleep tonight, he knew what he would be doing.

"Thank you, USSR, you didn't have to do this."

"As you've said multiple times before. I wanted to, so you are obligated to stay now, you're not allowed to leave," he joked. "Also, if you need the bathroom, it's this door right next to the stairs. My bedroom is the one on the left, directly next to yours, okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Oh, I almost forgot! Be right back-" USSR blurted out, disappearing into his own bedroom. He returned a few moments later with an armful of clothes. "Here, I'm bigger than you, so these should fit. Some for sleeping in, if you don't want to sleep naked, and stuff to wear when you wake up." He held them out to Reich. Reich took them, not quite sure whether to smile or laugh.

"Thank you, Sowjet. Sie sind sehr rücksichtsvoll." He put the pile down on the bed. "I uh... Wish there was some way to thank you properly."

"Don't worry about it, Reich. You don't need to thank me."

"You keep saying that, but I feel like I _should_."

USSR let out a sigh of defeat.

"If you want to thank me _that badly_ , you should be able to let me do this." The Soviet sauntered forward, placing a large hand on Reich's arm. He gently pulled him forward until Reich's body was flush with his own. "Earlier at the pet shop, your friend Italy interrupted us before I could kiss you. Would you let me kiss you now?"

Reich squeaked, feeling a blush creep across his face. This was certainly _not_ what he had expected! It wasn't as though he didn't want it though, Pangaea knows he had wanted to kiss USSR since day one.

"J-Ja, I think I could handle that."

Deja vu sent a shiver down the Nazi's spine. As eager as he was to kiss USSR, he wanted to wait and see if the Russian would make the first move. He didn't. Instead, he used his hand to tilt the German's chin up to look at him. USSR gave a teasing grin, swiping his thumb over Reich's lips while his other hand made itself comfortable at Reich's hip. Without warning, USSR swooped down and pressed his lips against Reich's own, capturing him in a tender kiss. This caught the Nazi off guard, making him freeze in place for a moment. Once his brain caught up again though, he was kissing back with a bravery that outshone USSR's, letting his eyes flutter shut. The kiss was over almost as soon as it had started, leaving them resting their foreheads against each other and trying to regain lost oxygen. Reich didn't dare open his eyes lest it be just a dream. USSR huffed out a laugh.

"I thought _I_ was the one supposed to be kissing _you_?"

"I that what that was? You should've been braver if that's the case."

"Вы говорите мне, что делать" the Russian whispered huskily, a grin spreading across his face.

"Oh shut up, I'm _trying_ to say thank you."

"I can kiss you again then, can I?"

"Yes, just, watch out for my teeth, they're sharp-"

USSR didn't seem to care about the warning, instead leaning down to do as kiss him, clumsily pushing their lips together again. The Nazi opened his mouth ever so slightly, letting out a pleased gasp into USSR's mouth as the taller took what he wanted, Reich pulling at his jumper. USSR left a soft lick on Reich's bottom lip, asking for entrance. Reich complied, letting his mouth open again, trying to be wary of his teeth. USSR, again, didn't seem to care about the sharpness of his fangs, instead deciding to let his tongue trace the edges and points, the sensation drawing a quiet noise of enjoyment from the German. This kiss was much more passionate than the last, being more sensual rather than timidly testing the waters. Unfortunately, there was a little thing called air that both of them needed, _if_ they had any intention of surviving another day, at least. They pulled apart, just as breathless as the first kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips. USSR licked his lips, breaking the string. He grinned.

"Did that satisfy you?"

"It's not supposed to satisfy me, I'm supposed to be saying thank you." Reich answered, a frown appearing on his face. 

"Well, in my opinion, it was a very nice thank you. You make wonderful noises. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Reich let go of USSR's jumper in favor of snaking his arms around the Russian's neck. "Rest assured, Sowjet, I enjoyed it _very_ much, but I would also very much like to sleep tonight. If you continue kissing me like that, it'll make things very difficult for both of us."

USSR didn't seem to care about the 'warning'. Instead, he grinned down at Reich, bringing his hand back to the German's chin and tilting his head sideways to place a light peck on his cheek while unhooking Reich's arms with his free hand.

"извинения, I'll let you sleep," USSR said, straightening up and making his way to the door. "Don't forget, I'm just next door if you need me." The Soviet walked out onto the landing, closing the door behind him. Reich sighed to himself as he watched the retreating figure of USSR. 'I can't believe I fell for him this hard.'

He walked over to the pile of clothes that USSR had given him, sorting through them and deciding what would be the most comfortable. A feeling of regret lingered in his mind. Had he scared off the other country? What if USSR hadn't have left? Did he want USSR to come back? Anxious thoughts clouded his mind, making him worry. He shook his head when he realised what he had been doing, cursing his worry-prone nature. No, it was done now. He had made his bed, now he had to lie in it. Despite him being grateful that USSR was letting him sleep, he couldn't deny that the thought of things heating up caused a knot of desire to twist in his chest. He tried his best to ignore it though, as he really did want to sleep, make no mistake about that. He quickly folded up his clothes and put them in a neat pile next to the bed. Climbing into the bed, he could only think about how it _was_ as soft as it looked. He shoved his face into one of the pillows, hugging it with both arms and breathing in its clean scent. 

If he was correct, it smelt faintly of lavender. It made a refreshing change to his own bed. He had gotten used to his own scent long ago, so his apartment didn't smell like anything in particular. USSR on the other hand, had a scent entirely his own. Reich hadn't spent much time in close proximity to him, but recalling when they had been pressed against each other, kissing, Reich had smelt coffee and wood-smoke. He could only guess what USSR had been doing to have the scents lingering on him. Well, the coffee was understandable, but the fire? That was a little surreal. Thinking back to the kiss, he wondered if it had been as enjoyable on USSR's end as it had been for him. Oh great, just great. He was making himself anxious again. He rolled over and tried to lose his train of thought. He looked in the direction of the window, watching as little snow drifts built up against the panes. For some reason, he thought of Italy. He needed to let Italy know where he was in case he came looking for him. Reich rolled over an picked up his phone from his jeans' pocket, bringing up Italy's contact and typing out the message.

**Hey Italy, you awake?** sent at: 00:09

_Reich? Why are you still up? It's like midnight!_ sent at: 00:09

**I've been out later than expected** sent at: 00:10  
**I'm letting you know where I am** sent at: 00:10  
**I'm spending the night at USSR's house** sent at: 00:11

_Please tell me you slept with that god. Tell me you did._ sent at: 00:12

****Are you kidding me?** sent at: 00:12  
**I could've been attacked, kidnapped and held hostage by the Allied assholes and all you're concerned with is if I've slept with somebody?** sent at: 00:13 **

****

****

_You can just say 'no' you know?_ 🤣🤣 sent at: 00:15

**I'm trying to make a point here, don't laugh at me!** 😡😡😡 sent at 00:15

_Whatever Reich, just go to sleep like a normal country. Japan has work in the morning and I have to drive him_ sent at: 00:16

**Okay, goodnight Italy. I'll message you tomorrow** sent at: 00:16

Reich put his phone back in his jeans' pocket, rolling onto his back. Typical Italy, thinking with his cock instead of his head. Well, depending on how you looked at it, he technically _was_ thinking with his head, but Reich decided he didn't want to think about it. He clapped his hands over his eyes and groaned. He was exhausted, but his mind didn't seem to want to sleep. He decided he would just have to lay there until he just fell asleep. It took a while, but he managed it eventually. Little did he know, USSR was having problems sleeping next door too, just for entirely different reasons. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, congratulations for reading right to the end! You've certainly got a strong stomach if you've made it this far. Anyway, you're here for the translations, so here you go!
> 
> The Translations:  
> German Words:  
> Sowjet - Soviet  
> Polen - Poland  
> Deutschland - Germany  
> Scheiße - Shit  
> Nein - No  
> Böser Hund - Bad Dog  
> Bitte - Please  
> Warum - Why  
> Ach Mein Gott - Oh My God  
> Bärchen - Bear  
> Ja - Yes  
> Jetzt - Now  
> Ähm, Klar - Erm, Sure  
> Geh Weg - Go away  
> Vergib Mir - Forgive Me  
> Es Ist Kein Problem - It Isn't A Problem  
> Ich Vermute - I Guess  
> Sie Sind Sehr Rücksichtsvoll - You Are Very Considerate
> 
> Italian Words:  
> Oh Mio Dio - Oh My God  
> Buono Per Te - Good For You  
> Da Questa Parte - This way  
> Serbatoio - Tank  
> Buon Dio - Good God  
> Oh, è il Giappone - Oh, It's Japan
> 
> Russian Words:  
> Коротышка - Shorty  
> О слава богу - Oh Thank God  
> Нет - No  
> Поразительно - Amazing  
> спасибо - Thank You  
> Страшный позор - Terrible Shame  
> Отлично - Excellent  
> Вы говорите мне, что делать - Are You Telling Me What To Do  
> извинения - Apologies
> 
> Ukrainian Words:  
> Вечір, сер - Evening, Sir
> 
> Latvian Words:  
> Labvakar, Kungs - Good Evening, Sir


	6. The Fine Art Of Bullshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!
> 
> There's going to be nightmares, mentions of a panic attack, implied torture, explicit blood mentions (gore) and hardcore smut in this chapter!  
>  **DON'T LIKE DON'T READ.**
> 
> Actually, if you don't like it I don't know how you came this far, this whole piece is a nightmare. I don't know how to write humor so it's slapstick. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, I hope it was good enough for you!
> 
> Literally the same as always, Translations at the end. (Have a laugh at the last one lmao)

The first thing that Reich remembered waking up to was the feeling of intense heat and the sound of crackling fire. In a flash, he was hyper-aware of his surroundings; he was in the middle of a forest that seemed to be on fire. The more he looked at it, the more familiar it became. It was _his_ forest he was in, _his_ forest that was on fire. He leapt to his feet, spinning wildly in confusion, trying to see if there was anyone around. War instincts flooded back to him; blend in, find a weapon, locate allies, don't get caught or die. Reich ducked down behind a nearby rock, still trying to take note of the area. He brushed a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes, wishing he had some kind of hairslide or clip. He recognised everything, but, it was so surreal, nothing made sense and it seemed to change the moment he looked away. He was about to move from his hiding spot, when he felt himself drop something. He looked down, his natural instinct to pick it back up. Only then did he notice that not only was he holding a gun, but his hands were covered in blood. He dropped the thing like it had burned him, his panic rising. Why did he have a gun? Whose blood was this? Did he kill someone? He wasn't hurt, there were no wounds on him. At least, he didn't think so, he couldn't feel anything apart from the heat, so it was hard to tell. He felt like he was still coming down from some kind of high, but, what kind of high would make him feel like this?

Feeling too light to be considered sober, Reich's head spun. Something wasn't right here, it was all wrong, this felt too familiar, and yet... so alien. He looked again at the flames that sprung up all around him, surprised to find they no longer burned him, only making noise now. He pushed himself back up onto his feet, something making him pocket his gun. He wandered around the forest, recognising the trees, but not where his feet took him. An unnatural fear crept up his spine, sending goosebumps along his skin but doing nothing to bring him down from his high. Through the flames and ashen trunks, he saw something, the first thing that made sense. Germany! His son, his sweet little boy was knelt down on the floor, unmoving. Wait... Germany? That... _Didn't_ make sense... What was he doing here? Didn't he know the forest was on fire? Reich ran towards him as quickly as he could, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around. Much to the Nazi's horror, his son's eyes were dull and emotionless, his hands also dripping with fresh-looking blood. He leapt back in shock. Was the blood on his own hands Germany's? Before he could inspect his son for injuries, Germany stood up, staring straight at him. The eyes once empty now only held pure hatred. The sight sent the pit of Reich's stomach through the floor, he didn't like that look directed at him, and from his own son no less.

"You did this, Vater, you did this to her..."

Reich was confused. He tried to ask what Germany was talking about, but no sound left his mouth. For some reason, this didn't worry him, almost like it was normal, but, it just _didn’t make sense..._

"Why? You had everything? What more could you possibly want?"

Germany began to walk slowly towards him, his expression shifting with each step. His voice didn't match his appearance. His young son was walking towards him, but all Reich heard was his older son's voice speaking. For every step forward Deutschland took, Reich took one step back. As much as he wanted to go to his son, apologise for whatever he’d done, his body wouldn't let him. The whole situation felt so familiar... So terrifyingly familiar. He tried to tell Germany he didn't understand, but again, nothing left his lips, only a deafening silence as even the fires had stopped burning. The whole forest now seemed to have been burnt out, a shell of its former glory. Flakes of ash and smoldering chunks of wood crunched beneath their feet as they moved.

"You knew she was my friend, you knew how much she meant to me!" Germany roared, his body contorting and twisting its shape; growing taller, older. Reich continued to back up. He never thought he'd live to see the day he was scared of his own son. All of a sudden, he had the unrelenting urge to look down. Scattered all around their feet were feathers of purest white, almost ethereal in their appearance. Reich knew those feathers... It couldn't be... _That's_ why this place was so familiar. It was _that_ night all over again. He turned around, somehow knowing closing his eyes wouldn't help anything. There lay the bloodied and broken body of Poland, barely breathing, shivering, her wings nearly devoid of feathers. A loud shriek of despair made Reich whip around, looking back at Germany. His son was looking at Poland's nearly lifeless figure, tears rolling down his face as he fell to his knees. Reich wasn't in control of his body; he tried to force himself to walk over to Germany, to help or comfort him, he didn't care, he just wanted his son. Instead, he sauntered over to Poland, surveying the damage to her body. The deliciously addictive, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He felt himself grinning maliciously down at Polen, watching as a flicker of terror flashed through her eyes. It made what was left of his heart leap in excitement, overcome with tremendous bloodlust. She was scared of him. Oh how he _loved_ to see that... She was practically _begging_ him to drink from her, just laying there, unable to resist it at all. He kicked at her wing that was trying in vain to shield her body from view, forcing a pained gasp from the angel. He knelt down next to her, listening to her ragged breathing. Her blood would still be warm, presumably. At least, the blood that was still inside her body would be. And it would be delicious. He outstretched a hand towards her, feeling his heart beating in anticipation. He just had to- 

_No_. He clutched his hand back as fast as lightning. No no no, he didn't want her blood. Why was he thinking that? He jumped up, suddenly able to control his own actions again. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clawing at his head as he choked, the blood in his mouth spilling past his lips, dripping onto the front of his uniform and staining Poland's already blood-soaked clothes even more. Poland's head fell backwards, in defeat or exhaustion from blood loss Reich didn't know. All he did know was that he was roughly shoved backwards by Germany as he knelt over the angel's body. He was screaming out incoherent words. They probably meant something to him and anyone else who was listening, but, to Reich, they meant nothing, he couldn't understand them. The next thing he knew was a rough yank from the back of his collar, somebody pulling him backwards, pressing something cold and solid against his temple. He had enough common sense left to recognise this as a weapon, a gun in particular. Pure, raw, untamed instinct made him snap and claw at his captor, screaming insults and threats in any language he could recall at the time. He thrashed about wildly, desperately trying to get free. He wanted to get back to the blood source. No, he _needed_ to get back to the blood source. Somebody was yelling something above him, although, they could've just been speaking, they sounded close. A deafening ringing in his ears prevented him from hearing most of what was said, but he didn't like what he heard.

"-ust shoot the bastard! He's not g-"

"-oodlust has got him, restrain him! Don't let him bite you!-"

"-hoot him! He's only going to kill ag-"

He understood that they wanted to shoot somebody, and since he was the one being held, Reich assumed it was him they intended to fill with lead. As a last desperate attempt at freedom, he threw his arms backwards, almost dislocating his shoulder in the process, finally managing to get a hit in on the hand that held him. He dug his claws in as deep as they would go, making the hand loosen it's grip almost immediately, along with an incredibly angry string of abuse. He sprang away in an almost animalistic manner, making a run for the burnt foliage. He knew his red complexion would stand out against the uniform grey of the forest, but it was the only thing his clouded mind could think of to get away, and he didn't care.

"-old you to fucking SHOOT HIM!"

"Give it, I'll do it myself!"

A loud 'bang' and a searing pain in his back made him fall, crashing through the forest gracelessly, the only thought in his head was to hide. Whoever shot the gun would've been a deadshot; they hit him where it mattered. It hurt to move anything, and he doubted that without adrenaline, he wouldn't still be moving. All the same, adrenaline wasn't enough, as his legs suddenly couldn't hold him anymore, causing him to drop like deadweight. The Nazi felt himself losing consciousness. Driven by instinct and adrenaline, he fought to keep himself awake as he tried to pull himself forward, still trying to get away from the commotion of the clearing. A heavy foot landed on top of the wound on his back, the heel pushing on it painfully, twisting. It was clearly deliberate. He screamed a blood-curdling scream, writhing in white-hot pain. Again, he heard a voice, this one close enough to be above him. 

"-stard practically went feral. We got him though, 'Meri shot him. He's not going anywhere."

Reich felt his eyelids begin to close, melting away all his concerns of survival or well-being. Whoever he had been running away from clearly won, and there was nothing he could do about it. Defeated, he let his head fall to the ground, letting the last of the air out of his lungs. At this point, Reich felt he could welcome Death like an old friend rather than know what would happen to him. The last thing he remembered before his eyes fluttered shut was a wide grin, and a figure whose face he couldn't remember looming over him.

He shot up in bed in a panic, his chest heaving, a sheen of cold sweat lining his body. Hot tears stung his eyes, either from fear or lack of oxygen, Reich didn't know. He pulled in huge lungfuls of air, desperately trying to replace what was lost. He trembled, adrenaline and fear still coursing through his veins. The tears that pricked at his eyes fell, making him press his palms to his eyes, swiping at them in an attempt to clear his vision. The Nazi drew his knees up to his chest, trying to even out his breathing. He covered his face with his hands while silent tears continued to fall. He felt something sharp poking against his forehead, recognising it as his claws. They weren't _his_ per se, but the claws of his other half. His Feral Side. The one in the dream.

'It's over, it was just a night terror, you're still breathing, you're okay...' The German assured himself, repeating it like a mantra, something constant to focus on and ground himself. His panic was taking a while to dissipate. Of course it had been a nightmare, it was one of the few that haunted him nowadays - The night he had succumbed to his other half and almost murdered his son's best and only friend. His Feral Side had followed him for years, never leaving, still a part of him years later. It wasn't its own person, just amplifying Reich's instincts and base desires, but when it took hold of him, it didn't let go until you either waited it out or it got what it wanted. Usually it only took hold in life-threatening situations, but there weren't many of them in Reich's modern life anymore, thank Pangaea. In his nightmare's case, it had wanted blood for no reason, but attacked when the others tried to stop him. The worst part? It had all happened, and it was all true.

He remembered the hand motions his father taught him, tracing his palm with his trembling fingers as slow and steady as possible. It worked, miraculously. This was one of the many times that Reich was thankful that his father had been mindful of his anxiety and had helped him find ways of keeping it under control. He breathed a shaky sigh, having come down from the spike of terror. His breathing was almost completely normal now, and for that, he was grateful. Only now would he let himself take note of his surroundings. He was in a room he didn't recognise, in a bed that wasn't his own, wearing clothes that weren't his either. His panic was about to peak again, when memories from the previous night came flooding back.

USSR had let him stay the night, giving him clothes and giving him free reign of his house. He was safe here, there was nothing to be afraid of. He let his legs straighten out again, sighing in relief. The T-shirt he was wearing was completely soaked. It was sticking to him, as was his hair. He couldn't decide if it was from sweat or tears, but whatever the case, the shirt needed to come off. He tugged it over his head, grunting at the unexpected effort. He bunched it up and swung his legs out of bed, brushing his hair out of his eyes and pushing it over his shoulder. He studied his fingers in the darkness, waiting for his claws to sheath themselves away. He gave his eyes a final wipe with his fingers, making sure that his face was completely dry and somewhat presentable. He contemplated looking for USSR. If he did, what would he do? Was this just like a sleepover? Suddenly, he remembered the kiss from yesterday too. He felt his face flush. It was more than just a sleepover, but both parties seemed reluctant to make a move of any sort. Reich forced himself to his feet, trying to regain feeling in his legs. They still felt like jelly, sort of. He decided he should get dressed and go look for USSR. There wouldn't be any harm in asking permission to go home, would there?

He looked at the pile of clothes next to the bed that the Russian had given him yesterday. There would be something in there that fit him reasonably well, hopefully. After searching through it for a few moments, he decided that USSR wasn't a person made for the same kind of casual that Reich was so fond of. He must know this too, as he owned a lot of smart jumpers and long-sleeved shirts, at least, that's what Reich gathered from looking at what USSR had given him. The Nazi ended up picking out a pair of washed-out black jeans with faded knees and a white T-shirt that fit him the best. It still hung from his frame, only emphasising USSR's proportions. Even with him carrying a bit of extra weight, USSR's clothes were still large on him. He picked up the hair-tie from yesterday, brushing his hair out with his fingers and pulling it into a loose ponytail. In an attempt to fix the loose waist of the shirt, the German picked up a dark gold flannel shirt and tied the sleeves around himself. It made it look like the clothes fit him a bit more, but he desperately missed his hoodies. They covered the bandages on his arms for a start. Oh! His bandages! He couldn't let any of USSR's 'family' see or they would walk on eggshells around him. That wasn't what he wanted, so he sat back down on the bed for a bit, adjusting the bandages and making them as inconspicuous as possible. When he deemed them 'normal' enough, he ventured outside of his room and slowly walked up to the bedroom door that he had been told was USSR's. He was surprised to find the door ajar slightly, so he pushed it open a bit more, just enough to peek inside and determine if the Soviet was in there. He wasn't, the bedroom was completely empty. There were signs of somebody having been in it earlier, as the bed was unkempt and the curtains were pulled back from the window, letting the dim morning sun in. Reich pulled his head back, confused, wondering where USSR could be. He reckoned he should try downstairs.

Walking to the other side of the hallway and looking over the banister allowed him to smell, for the first time, something cooking. He heard quiet music and muffled humming coming from downstairs. 'Ah, that must be USSR then, at least, I hope so.' Going from the descriptions of the Russian's children he had gotten yesterday, he didn't feel like meeting Russia in their father's house, _or_ Estonia, for that matter. He would have a lot of explaining to do. The only one he would've been fine with meeting would be Belarus, but the singing didn't sound female. Reich collected himself and hoped for the best, making his way down the stairs. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could hear the singing more clearly, though not entirely. He picked up a few words that he recognised as his own language.

"-ussland ist ein schönes land, Ho ho ho ho ho, hey!"

Ah. The country was singing about Moscow, in German, while cooking whatever it is they were cooking. He smiled in amusement, making his way towards the kitchen. He decided that whoever was singing in his native language couldn't be that bad, whoever they were. It certainly didn't sound like Britain, France or America as their voice was too deep, so everything was fine. Coming to the entryway into the kitchen, Reich could see USSR at the stove, hopping about and singing along to his phone. It sat playing music on the counter. He flitted about between the cupboards and the fridge, picking up ingredients as he went, still singing along and swaying his hips in a mockery of dancing. It took all of Reich's willpower not to laugh at him; USSR seemed happy and he didn't want to ruin that, so instead, he leaned against the doorframe and waited for the Soviet to notice him.

"Moskau, Moskau, Liebe schmeckt wie kaviar, Mädchen sind zum küssen da, Ho ho ho ho ho, he- **AYE PANGAEA!** "

USSR had turned around in a sort-of spin with absolutely no grace to it, and as a result had noticed Reich standing there, almost dropping the spatula he was holding in shock. Now that USSR was facing him, Reich could see the apron he was wearing. It was a royal blue with the words 'Warning, Hot Stuff Coming Through!' written on the front. He looked like a moron. in Reich's opinion, at least. USSR probably thought he looked drop-dead gorgeous.

"Reich! Damn you, you gave me a heart attack!" USSR said, hurriedly reaching over and turning off his phone.

"Ja, good morning to you too," Reich said with a grin, walking over to the island and leaning over it. "I'm liking the tunes, although, you do realize that song's in German, yes?"

"I _do_ know that, I just like it because it's about a place I am rather fond of," the Russian said matter-of-factly, turning on the spot and resuming his cooking. Reich craned his neck upwards, trying to see past his big shoulders.

"What are you making?"

"Food." USSR deadpanned, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

'Well, yeah, duh. I mean what type of food?"

"Breakfast food."

This time, USSR turned his head slightly to the side whilst reaching for an ingredient, letting Reich see the smug smile on his face.

"Stop fucking with me! I want to know!" The Nazi whined, stretching languidly across the counter, oddly cat-like in appearance. USSR laughed at the childish display of annoyance.

"Alright alright, it's a traditional breakfast, nothing fancy. I sent Latvia out with Ukraine for fresh bread and some other stuff, they should be back soon."

"Ah." Reich paused, thinking about his next choice of words. "Can I help? With the cooking I mean."

"I don't believe you're experienced enough to cook yet-" USSR chuckled, much to Reich's chagrin. "Although, if you wouldn't mind going into that drawer there and grabbing me a fork, I would be grateful."

"Yeah, okay," the German replied, shoving himself away from the doorframe and walking over to the draw USSR had gestured at.

"Are you alright Reich? Your eyes are red. Did something happen?" USSR asked, concern lacing his voice. Reich waved a hand dismissively and shook his head, closing the drawer now that he had the fork.

"No no, just a night terror, nothing major."

USSR reached upwards and went into a cupboard, grabbing some plates and clicking the stove down to a lower temperature. He walked over to the island and began to arrange the crockery. Reich left the fork he had asked for next to the stove, going back to his previous spot and leaning on the island.

"Are you sure? You don't want to talk about it do you?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"If you say so," the Soviet said, leaning forward slightly. He left a kiss on Reich's cheek, chuckling to himself as he watched the Nazi's face heat up. "Sit, breakfast will be done soon."

Reich moved to obey, seating himself onto one of the few barstools that stood around the island. As he did so, the front door clicked, letting in Latvia and Ukraine.

"We're back Sir!" Latvia piped, letting Ukraine close the door while she joined them in the kitchen. Both of their faces were kissed pink by the cold outside. "We brought the stuff you wanted. Oh, labrīt Reich!"

"Good morning, Latvia. Nice to see you again," the German nodded at her.

"Ah, right on time!" USSR exclaimed, clapping his hands together and picking up the fork. "Latvia, would you cut the bread for me please?"

"Of course!"

The kitchen suddenly seemed much more lively now that Latvia and Ukraine had returned. It had been nice with just him and USSR, but being surrounded by so many friendly faces made a warmth swell in Reich's chest that he wasn't sure was a particularly bad thing. It was one thing to have friends at your side, but this felt like the family that Reich had never had the chance to experience. A sudden pang of jealousy struck through him at the thought of USSR's kids getting this kind of treatment all their lives. Sure, he had been treated like this as a child, but that was a long time ago, and he had ruined his chances with Germany. Ukraine must've noticed him zoning out, as he walked over to Reich, giving him a pat on the shoulder and flashing him a ruddy-faced smile.

"Guten morgen, Reich. You doing okay?"

"You know German?" Reich asked, surprised, ignoring Ukraine's question altogether. He didn't think many other people spoke in his native tongue.

"Nah, sorry! Just the one phrase..." Ukraine visibly cringed, looking apologetic.

"It's okay, I wasn't expecting you to know more."

USSR turned around to bark a few orders at Ukraine before turning off the stove and emptying the pan, of what Reich now knew to be bacon, onto a plate. 

"Reich, grab some cups would you? They're in the cupboard over there." USSR gestured with a thumb. Reich got up and went over the the cupboard to do as he was told. The 'cups' in question didn't give the appearance of a cup at all really, more like a small but high-sided bowl. It didn't have any handle, and this struck the German as odd, but this meant it could be used as a glass for juice or milk, or it was thick enough for coffee or tea. It was really quite ingenious. Reich hadn't seen anything like it before. The conservatory door opened, letting in the cold momentarily, and another country that Reich had not seen before. She had a tri-coloured face, yellow, green and red. She walked with a tomboy-ish air about her, something about her gait that emanated self-confidence. Seemingly ignoring the arrival of another country, Latvia brought a plate of bread with different spreads on over to the island, setting it up so that it looked pretty from all angles.

"Latvia, darling, nobody cares for your OCD, please, we just want to eat," said the mystery country, bringing Latvia's hand to her lips in a chaste kiss.

"Don't do that now Lith! I'm working!"

"Ah, how nice of you to join us, Lithuania," USSR said, flashing a warm smile her way. "Please, help yourself, we have plenty this morning, we bought fresh stock."

"Oh I _do_ feel honoured, being asked to eat at the Lord's table." Lithuania curtsied exaggeratedly, a self-satisfied grin on her face. She grabbed a piece of the bread with honey on. "By veh way, who've vif?" She asked with a mouthful of bread, gesturing over towards Reich. He was just trying to put the cups out, he didn't want to be interrogated.

"This--" Ukraine said, making a show of presenting Reich to her, "--Is Reich. He's Радянські's new piece." Reich blushed at the crudeness of the statement, having to turn his face away to hide his embarrassment. USSR noticed this. He reached for the spatula again, a frown crossing his face. A loud 'thwack' and an elongated 'ow' indicated that the Russian had used it to smack Ukraine over the head.

"Don't talk about Reich like that, he is a guest."

"Heh, I'm guessing he's _more_ than a guest if that's the way you're acting."

USSR brandished the spatula with a little more vigor than before and moved forward a few steps. Lithuania's taunts were quick to quieten. As embarrassing as it was having another country fight to 'protect his reputation', as it were, it was almost comical, and the Nazi had to reprimand himself mentally for wanting to laugh. He brought over a bowl of cherries and strawberries that Ukraine had handed him, setting it up with care to make sure that Latvia's aforementioned OCD would not be disturbed.

"We are here to eat breakfast and to be civil, there should be no need for violence, at least not this early in the morning," USSR said, sounding final. He hung up his apron next to the kitchen door.

"Sorry Sir but, it's not early, it's, like, quarter to eleven."

"Would you like a hit too?" USSR asked, turning his head to the side, but not fully.

There was a pause. Presumably, Lithuania was swallowing another mouthful of her honeyed breakfast.

"No, you're right Sir, too early for violence!"

"As I thought."

USSR relinquished his death grip on the poor utensil's handle, leaving it on the counter. It was slightly bent out of shape, only slightly. The Soviet must have some _really_ solid muscles in those arms in order to do that. Either that or Ukraine's skull was made of reinforced titanium. The thought sent an involuntary shiver down Reich's spine. Lithuania came and made herself comfortable next to him, finally finishing her bread and honey and reaching for another piece. Ukraine brought over a final plate of food and seating himself on the opposite side of the island. USSR made himself comfortable on the other side of Reich while Latvia brought a carton of orange juice over and a jug of coffee.

"Okay, who wants what?"

As Latvia made her way around the island, giving each country their desired drink, Reich marvelled once again at the lack of hostility. It was so difficult for him to wrap his head around. How could so many people be so civil towards each other? Let alone friendly. Latvia drew him from his musings as she reached him, asking him which drink he wanted.

"Er, coffee, please."

"Sure!"

She poured his drink before moving onto USSR. She didn't even ask, she just poured him his coffee without thinking about it. He nodded his thanks and picked it up straight away, taking a gulp. Reich reached for his own cup, bringing it to his lips and blowing on it to cool it down. Latvia by this point had done the drinks round and sat down next to Lithuania, who had already started to take bacon from the plate in front of her. Ukraine was helping himself to some bread and jam, laughing at something that Latvia had said. The atmosphere was still something to envy. USSR noticed the German's apprehension to do anything, so brought his hand down on top of Reich's, brushing some hair behind his ear and looking at him with something akin to concern in his eyes.

"You okay?"

"Yes, I'm just... Seeing how friendly you all are with each other. I see now why you referred to them as family." USSR hummed in understanding.

"We get that a lot, unsurprisingly."

"I suppose I'm jealous of you, Sowjet."

"Jealous?"

"Yeah, you have everything here; a family, a wonderful house, children who love you, for the most part." he added, remembering what USSR had said about Russia. "I don't see why you'd want me in your life as well."

"Well, they say that the man with everything never has enough, that he always has a void to fill." USSR said, smiling. "I suppose you're filling that void."

"Are you trying to flirt with me?"

"Well, that depends..." He leaned closer to Reich's ear, whispering so that only he could hear. "Is it working?" he deadpanned, sounding completely serious.

The Nazi fell forward with a laugh.

"You insufferable idiot. Sometimes you're too pure for your own good," he replied, smiling fondly at USSR.

USSR barked with laughter of his own, halting all conversation between the other countries, making them all look over at the two. Reich couldn't meet any of their eyes for some reason, his face burning. Despite USSR's raucous laughter, an pregnant silence befell the rest of the table. At least, until Lithuania spoke up.

"I knew it! I knew you were more than a guest!"

"Alright, that's it, I gave you a warning."

USSR leapt up from his seat, his laughter stopping immediately in place of a deadly serious tone. He made a wild grab for the spatula and stood glaring at Lithuania. The country in question squeaked in fear, slowly sliding off of the barstool and holding her hands out in front of her as one might do to a bear or some other feral beast.

"Come now, let's be reasonable, no need for violence this early, right?"

"Трахни это! Come here!"

The Russian darted towards her with practiced accuracy, eliciting a scream of terror from Lithuania who quickly took off running in the opposite direction.

"Šventas pragaras Sir, take a joke! Please!"

"нет."

The two disappeared somewhere in the house, leaving Reich, Latvia and Ukraine alone. Ukraine resumed eating, but Latvia pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Is this... Uh... Normal?" The German questioned, looking at the normally chirpy face and wondering how a disappointed expression such as hers could look so out of place on a country.

"Yes, this happens all the time," Latvia replied, letting her hand fall to the table and shaking her head in exasperation. "Lithuania never knows when to shut up. She has a head that's too big for her shoulders, especially when it comes to authority."

"It's still more exciting than a regular day. Usually, mine don't vary too far from the daily grind, but not even twenty minutes after waking up here, something extraordinary's happening."

"Wow, your days can't be too much fun then, can they?" Ukraine asked from across the island.

"No, not really. I don't do an awful lot, and I don't really leave the house unless I have to."

"Well, welcome to the Asylum," he said casually, cutting up a piece of bacon.

"Asylum?"

"Yeah, it's what we've dubbed the house." Ukraine answered with a fond half-smile. "Crazy stuff happens here all the time. Although, it's usually when Russia's brought friends home."

"Oh, that's... USSR's eldest son, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's him. Real pakaļu type." Latvia said, aggressively drinking her orange juice, her face stark in contrast to Ukraine's smile from before. Reich didn't even think that it was possible to drink something so sweet with such a sour face.

"So... He's not a good person to be around?"

"Absolutely not. You've seen how Sir treats us like his own family, yes?" The Nazi nodded. "Well, Russia treats us like common servants. He doesn't even use our names."

"Wow, if he can't even use your names to address you, he must be some kind of scrub."

Latvia snorted a laugh, continuing to giggle, the action putting a soft smile on Reich's face. He was glad that he could still make somebody laugh, even if it seemed small and meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

"Believe me, he is." Ukraine groaned, rolling his eyes. "Even Sir agrees with us that he's just a spoiled arse. Just try to stay out of his way and not to piss him off, if you can help it. He's usually in a bad mood anyway. He's like an overgrown baby."

Reich didn't like the sound of Russia quite so much anymore. Well, he didn't like the sound of him before, but now he was almost _certain_ he didn't want to meet him at all. If even his father talked ill of him, there couldn't be anything salvageable in the boy.

"I shall take your advice. Thank you, for the insight."

"Oh, you're very welcome. Any time you want to bitch about him, come find us. We're willing to share stories of him getting into trouble for believing himself a prince." Ukraine grinned, sipping at his coffee.

"He deems himself untouchable because he's friends with an 'Army General'. At least, that's what he thinks." Latvia laughed.

"What do you mean 'that's what he thinks'? What do you know that he doesn't?"

Latvia and Ukraine exchanged glances before bursting into fits of giggles.

"Russia thinks he's friends with an Army General. He's really not militia. We've met him, and Sir worked in the military. He knows this guy's a fraud."

"Why hasn't he told Russia yet?"

"The boy refuses to listen. The 'General' acts like an idiot too, but he's surprisingly clever. He's succeeded in dazzling Russia with smoke and mirrors and even carries a gun around sometimes. Don't know if it's real or not, but he's dragging the poor boy around by a lead of his own design. It's Russia's own fault now if he gets hurt."

"I don't think I like the sound of this 'General'."

"Oh don't worry, he wouldn't really shoot any of us. Russia wouldn't let him. If any of us were hurt by Russia or his friends, Sir said he wouldn't hesitate to kick him out." Latvia said, smiling smugly as she looked over at Ukraine. "It's just a matter of time before he slips up though."

"I almost forgot, does this 'General' have a name?"

"I probably heard it at some point, but I never bothered to remember it," Latvia shrugged. "Ukraine, did you ever get his name?"

"Yeah, I did. His name's America or something like that. Even _sounds_ like an зад."

The Nazi's blood ran cold. Russia was friends with... America? _Oh_ dear, that wasn't good. Both Ukraine and Latvia seemed to notice Reich's hesitation, as Ukraine straightened up and Latvia stood from her seat and reached a hand out towards him cautiously.

"Looks like you know him. Doesn't look like you're friends though."

"N-No, we're not friends but I know him." Reich said, forcing a neutral look and hoping it wasn't noticeable. His throat felt too tight, something blocking his airway that he couldn't move by swallowing. Latvia must've seen his distress as she let her arm fall around his shoulders.

"Are you okay? Sorry if I touched a nerve..."

"No no, it's okay, I'm okay. I just have bad history with him, that's all," the German said, looking away from them. There was a short silence as Ukraine and Latvia mouthed to each other, trying to convince the other to speak first. Ukraine eventually cleared his throat and spoke up. 

"Reich, I apologise if this is a touchy subject but... Well, we noticed them earlier but we didn't want to mention it to you. You have bruises, here," he supplied, dragging a finger across his own neck behind his jaw and almost to his collarbone. "Handprints. They look old. They're not from Sir, are they?'

The Nazi felt his face go pink as realisation dawned on him. They thought he had slept with USSR. 

"N-No, Sowjet didn't give me these," he was quick to assure them. He placed a hand nervously against his throat, almost like a sad attempt at trying to hide the bruising. The other two exchanged glances once more.

"So... Who gave you them? If you don't mind us asking, of course."

There was a pause as Reich contemplated his next words carefully.

"Ah... Well... You know I said I have bad history with America? Yeah... This was him."

"Pangaea's blessings. I didn't think he'd have the balls to actually hurt somebody."

"You don't know him like I do," Reich mumbled, looking down. He glanced over at the other two to ask, "You're not going to mention them when USSR gets back, are you? He already knows about them, but I'd prefer if we just didn't talk about it."

Before either of them could give Reich an answer, USSR chose that moment to return, dragging a moping Lithuania behind him by the back of her jacket. She was grumbling to herself and rubbing the side of her head, whereas the Russian looked quite proud of himself.

"Welcome back Sir!"

"I was only gone five minutes," USSR chuckled, tossing Lithuania back onto her barstool and putting the now thoroughly bent spatula back on the counter. The Tri-Colour sulked, nuzzling up into Latvia's side, much like a scolded puppy looking for sympathy.

"Yes, and in those five minutes, I have finished my breakfast, so I'm putting this in the 'washer and then I'm off to run that list of errands you left me." Ukraine said, standing up and taking his plate to the dishwasher.

"He doesn't need to do them right now does he Sir?" Latvia asked, sounding hopeful.

"He does, unfortunately. It's something quite important." USSR seemed to look at Reich while he said this. Endless possibilities of it's meaning swirled through the Nazi's head, but he decided it probably meant nothing. He was getting ahead of himself and imagining things.

"Oh well, we can always meet up later."

"Yeah, later it is," Ukraine said, heading into the hallway and pulling on his coat. "I'll hold you to that. Bye everyone!"

There was a chorus of goodbyes as the Bi-Colour left, leaving just Latvia, Lithuania, Reich and USSR in the kitchen. As USSR began to eat his breakfast, Reich looked over at Latvia and Lithuania. The latter was trying and failing to convince Latvia to feed her by guilt tripping her, but it clearly wasn't working. She complained loudly about having to do everything herself and how nobody liked her at all. Latvia gave a loud sigh and proceeded to feed Lithuania cherries and strawberries, the Tri-Colour giving hums of delight. The exchange made Reich smile; it was sweet, and adorable to watch. He realized he had been staring when Lithuania locked eyes with him over Latvia's shoulder, making his face heat up. He quickly looked away after seeing her smirk at him. He picked up his coffee again, busying himself with drinking it. He could feel USSR's gaze burning into him, so he looked sideways to meet his eyes. USSR was indeed looking at him with a soft smile.

"What are you smiling at?"

"You."

"Well, yes I know that, but _what_ about me is making you smile?"

"Don't know. Am I not allowed to smile at you?"

"Didn't say that..." Reich mumbled, turning to look straight ahead. Suddenly, he remembered wanting to ask USSR if he could go home, so he decided to ask him about it.

"USSR, sorry if this seems rude, but, at some point today I would like to go home. Would that be alright with you?"

"Yes, of course, I'm not stopping you. Do you want me to drive you?"

"Only if it's not too much trouble... I don't want to be a bother."

"You're not a bother Reich," the Soviet assured him, offering Reich a lopsided smile. "When do you want to go?"

"Not right now, of course, I still like it here. Just... Sometime today would be alright."

"Very well," USSR said, lifting one of Reich's hands to his lips and placing a kiss against his knuckles.

"Get off you big sap," Reich grumbled, but his words had no bite to them and he made no move to bring his hand back. USSR smirked against the German's skin, letting their hands fall back onto the countertop, not wanting to let go just yet. They sat like that for a while, just holding hands while Reich laughed at USSR trying to eat his breakfast with one hand. It truly was a pitiful sight, and considering the Russian was right handed and he was trying to use his right hand to eat, you'd have expected it to be better than a miserable failure. USSR shot Reich an unamused look, trying to make the Nazi stop giggling at him.

"If you're so clever, eat with one hand, go on. I bet you're not better than me," USSR said, sounding proud of himself, like he'd found something that Reich wouldn't be able to do. What a fool.

"Okay, I shall do as my Lord commands," Reich said with a smile, letting go of USSR's hand and picking up his fork from before. He reached it forward and proceeded to both cut through and eat a piece of egg from USSR's plate. The Soviet stared at him in amazement, not seeming to care that Reich was eating _his_ breakfast rather than his own.

"Well, I bet you can't do it with your left hand!" he said, half-hoping he would be right, but also intrigued to see if he could actually do it. Reich simply smiled and USSR knew what would happen next. Reich swapped the fork into his left hand and proceeded to cut off some more of USSR's egg and feed himself, smiling in triumph despite the full mouth.

"How!?" USSR queried, staring in confusion at the spot on his plate where the egg had gone missing.

"It's called being ambidextrous, Sowjet," Reich grinned, swallowing. "If you're jealous, I could teach you to use both hands."

"No _thank you_ , I do just fine with the one," USSR said indignantly, snatching his own fork up and continuing to eat his breakfast. 'He sulks like a toddler', Reich thought to himself as he watched the petty display of defeat. The Nazi finished his coffee and took his items to the dishwasher. He helped Latvia clean up the counters until USSR dismissed both her and Lithuania, leaving just Reich and him in the kitchen. Reich paid the Russian no mind as he continued to wash the dishes, and in truth almost forgot about him, so when he felt large hands snake around his waist he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Easy Reich, it's just me," USSR said, wrapping his arms around Reich more comfortably and holding him close.

"Mein gott, don't do that to me," Reich sighed, continuing his task.

"Mmm," was USSR's reply, resting his head on Reich's shoulder and sighing, letting his eyes close.

"Isn't this a little domestic? We only kissed yesterday Sowjet, and we're not even dating..." the Nazi questioned, sounding a little unsure. With USSR resting on his shoulder, he was hindering Reich's ability to clean the dishes properly.

"Am I not allowed to hug you? I thought _because_ we kissed yesterday, hugging you wouldn't be overstepping any boundaries."

The Nazi blushed furiously at the reminder of yesterday night, but said nothing. USSR made a good point, but it did not change the fact that he was trying to clean up. He straightened his back slightly and just told USSR to shut up. The Russian smirked from his perch on Reich's shoulder, gently nudging the flannel shirt out of the way and slipping a hand up Reich's shirt, ghosting his fingertips over the German's stomach and tilting his head slightly to look at Reich's reaction. He was satisfied to see that the Reich's blush deepened ever so slightly. It was fun to fluster him, and it was so easy to do so!

"That made you quiet, didn't it?" USSR teased, smirking. "Come on рейх, I want to spend time with you~"

"That's not fair Sowjet- Ah!" Reich gasped at the slight tickling sensation that followed USSR's fingers over his abdomen.

"And why isn't it fair?"

"T-Ticklish, you bastard! You know that!"

The Russian ignored him in favor of pressing his lips against Reich's neck, drawing another quiet noise from him. USSR wanted to hear more of the partially-stifled noises that Reich was trying to suppress. The Nazi wasn't pushing him away though, so USSR assumed that he couldn't hate it all that much. The Soviet continued to leave butterfly kisses on Reich's neck and let his hands work their way up his chest, torturously slowly.

"Sowjet, don't do that, please!" Reich pleaded feebly. His chest was incredibly sensitive, and USSR was getting dangerously close to his nipples.

"Why not? You seem to be enjoying this..." USSR mumbled against his neck.

"Please- My chest is _really_ sensitive, I don't know what I'll do if you don't stop..." the Nazi admitted, feeling embarrassed at having to say something like that out loud. He still made no move to stop the Russian's actions, though, and USSR didn't seem to mind the warning. He sent a breathy laugh across Reich's skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake and making the smaller country shudder.

"That makes me want to continue all the more."

"Okay okay, please stop it now, I'm serious!" Reich said, sounding slightly manic and moving his arms up and locking them tightly over his chest, forbidding USSR from going any higher.

"Oh come on~" USSR whined. At getting a nervous but still embarrassed glance from Reich, he removed his hands from under his shirt and fixed the gold flannel back into position around the Nazi's waist. "Alright, alright. Your body, your rules. If you'd rather, we can just spend the day here, lounging around and watching movies or something."

"As nice as that sounds, I believe I told you I have something I need to do first."

USSR huffed, pulling away from Reich's neck and leaning back against the island. Reich dried his hands on his jeans and moved to stand in front of USSR, looking up at him, the remnants of a faint blush still dusting his cheeks.

"What are you wanting to do, and how long will it take you?" The Russian asked, annoyed that he didn't get to see Reich lose control.

"It's just a phonecall, it won't take too long. At least, I hope it won't."

"Хорошо, I want to spend today with you."

"Yes, and you can, after my phonecall," Reich teased, putting a hand on USSR's cheek and watching as the Soviet brought his own hand up to hold it there, closing his eyes. "I want to spend the day with you too, so don't worry about it."

"Мудак, you're still making me wait," USSR grumbled, opening his eyes again, his gaze seeming to pierce straight through Reich's soul.

"Yeah yeah, I know," Reich purred, moving the hand that had been on USSR's cheek to behind his head and pulling him down for a kiss - One that the Soviet readily accepted, following Reich's lead to accommodate his short stature. "I've heard it all before, Herr Soviet."

The Nazi's words sent a shudder through USSR's body, one that Reich noticed. He smirked against USSR's lips, glad he could get his own back after the Russian's hands had been all over him.

"I will talk for five minutes tops, then I'm all yours, alright?"

"I can work with that."

"Gut."

A last peck on the lips and they split apart, Reich walking towards the window to call Italy, and USSR left to go into the lounge and turn on the TV.

"Serbatoio? What have you been doing? I was expecting you to call, like, an hour ago!"

"I'm sorry Italy, but-" Reich sighed like a lovesick fool. "-This has been the best morning I've had in a long time."

"Ooh, you have my attention Signore~ Tell me everything."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And that's everything up to now. At least- Everything that I've seen and heard."

There was a pause from the other side of the phone. Rustling could be heard, probably Italy adjusting his position to be more comfortable.

" **YOU COCKBLOCKED HIM!?** " Italy screeched down the speaker, sounding half mad.

"What are you shouting at me for? I didn't know what to do, I panicked!"

" **ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? YOU'VE BEEN WITH A MAN BEFORE, MULTIPLE TIMES, YOU KNOW HOW IT WORKS YOU IDIOT!** "

"Yes, I know _that_ but I mean, I was supposed to be calling you! Did you want me to call you any later?"

"I wouldn't mind if your excuse was that you were in _bed_ Reich! _Especially_ with that Soviet god! You just missed out on some serious meat!"

"Please don't make me feel any worse about it Italy, some help you are. I called you so you wouldn't worry and for some advice, not for you to tell me how to take somebody to bed!"

"Depends on what you mean by advice, because that sounds like _pret-ty_ good advice to me," Italy purred, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

"Oh go away. Why are we even friends? Why did I call you?"

"I don't know to be honest. When you mentioned him feeling you up, I expected a little more juicy detail, not just a pathetic 'No, no Soviet~ Get off, I'm too sensitive~'," Italy cooed, trying not to laugh. The Nazi opened his mouth, trying to think of a witty retort, but no sooner had the words left Italy's mouth when USSR called for Reich from across the house.

"Give me a second Italy- What was that, Soviet?"

"I said is _Sound Of Music_ alright?"

"Yes, that's fine."

"You almost done on the phone yet?"

"Yes, I was just about to go, I'll be there soon!" Reich called back, turning back to look out of the window and raising the phone to his ear again. "I've got to go Italy, Sowjet's calling for me, I've been over five minutes."

"Alright then, Serbatoio, I'll let you go. Phone me when you get home okay? I need to know you're alive."

"Yes, Italy, I'll phone you. Bye!"

"Buh-bye!"

Click. Reich hung up and put his phone back into the jeans' pocket before walking towards the lounge where USSR was waiting for him. The Soviet was kneeling in front of the TV, messing around with some DVD cases, most of which appeared to be romantic comedies. Reich had not seen any of them, not deeming himself the type, but he had heard of them or seen an advertisement for them before. Familiar titles jumped out at him, like _Isn't It Romantic_ and _To All The Boys I've Loved Before_. He stifled a laugh.

"Didn't take you as a Rom-Coms kind of guy, Sowjet. Hard outside soft inside, huh?"

"Oho~ There's a lot of things you don't know about me, my dear," USSR said, reaching further back on the shelf and pulling out another case. He gave it a quick glance over and smiled. "Gotcha."

"You've found it?"

"Yep."

He watched as USSR picked up a remote from on top of the TV and pointed it at the window. "What are you doing? Why're you pointing it at the window?" Reich asked, making himself comfortable on one of the many sofas squeezed into the room. A blackout curtain started to lower itself, making the room quite dark without the natural light from outside. It gave the lounge a cinema-like feel, what with the pitch blackness sinking into the furthermost corners and the only light being shone from the screen in front of them. The Russian dropped heavily onto the sofa next to Reich and spread his arms across the back of it, waiting for the film to start. As the title cards started to roll and the opening score began to play, USSR turned his head to face Reich and ask him: "By the way, you have seen this before, right?"

"Yes of course I have, who hasn't? What do you take me for, some kind of heathen?"

"Just wondering. I was going to explain what was going on if you hadn't."

"That's what the character's lines are there for, you idiot. _To explain what's going on_."

"Yes I _know_ that, I just- Oh never mind."

Reich laughed.

"It's fine, now shut up, I want to watch this."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several hours and many more bottles of alcohol later, USSR was flat-out drunk, leaning heavily against Reich on the sofa. USSR was smashed, but the Nazi was used to it, so he was in limbo, the place between sober and singing mood. Just past tipsy. They had put some old and outdated comedies on the TV, but they had long since stopped paying attention to what they were called, instead just laughing stupidly at the crappy jokes and cliche tropes. As a new movie started, USSR began to search around for more alcohol but found naught but empty bottles. He huffed grumpily, pulling himself to his feet and swaying slightly. Reich turned his head to look at him, giggling at his futile attempts to walk in a straight line.

"You ass, don't you laugh at me," the Soviet slurred, pressing a hand to his head and gripping the back of the sofa as if for dear life. Reich just snickered at him.

"You idiot! You can't even walk straight anymore!"

"I can too, watch me," USSR said, attempting to walk forward but swaying dangerously. "Fuck..." Reich barked out a laugh, the contents of his drink sloshing about within their glass confines.

"Pangaea's blessings! Someone can't hold their alcohol!"

"You get up then, smartass. Go... Go get us more drinks, they should be in the fridge..."

"Why me?"

"Because. M-My house, my rulesss..." USSR drawled, pointing an accusing finger at the German on his floor. Reich laughed at him, waving a hand dismissively in the Soviet's direction.

"Oh whatever, sit down before you get hurt."

USSR grunted in response, flopping down on the sofa again and letting his head roll backwards. Reich chuckled to himself, pushing himself to his feet and leaving his bottle on the floor. He picked it up as an afterthought, not trusting USSR not to drink it while he was gone. He walked into the kitchen with next to no staggering or swaying, managing to get into the fridge without much difficulty. There wasn't much alcohol left, but, it _was_ alcohol, and he wasn't going to complain. He hadn't drunk in a while; just over a week at least, and had been craving the familiar taste again. He knew he probably shouldn't be doing this, but nobody was there to tell him no. He downed the rest of his bottle, leaving it on the counter and grabbed the last couple of bottles and cans from the fridge, closing the door with his foot. Upon making his way back into the lounge, he noticed that USSR was now sitting up, eyes glued to the TV screen. Reich set his armful down and joined him on the sofa, trying to see what was so interesting. It was a kid's show, some orange-brown cat with a vibrant purple bowtie and jumper. He'd just left his house and been drenched with a bucket of water. It didn't look like anything special, but it must've been for USSR to look at it like that.

"What's up with Garfield? He wears clothes now?"

"It's not Garfield you idiot. Look at him--" USSR said, jabbing his finger at the TV, "--This one's thinner and he has a different voice. His name's Leopold."

"And? What's so special about him?"

"I used to- Used to watch this show as a kid. It's been years."

"Looks like shit to me," Reich replied, watching as two mice ran about frantically trying to escape a garden hose that was trying to spray them with water.

"Don't call it shit. It's good shit. Or it _was_ when I was younger..." USSR glanced wistfully at the TV. "Actually, you may be right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right," the Nazi giggled, opening the bottle closest to him. "You should listen to me more often."

"No thanks, I've seen how you live your life. If I followed your lead, I'd be dead and buried long since."

Reich paused for a moment, glancing at USSR from his side of the sofa. The Russian seemed genuine in what he said, but Reich couldn't tell if it was a compliment or not. He decided to ask him.

"Is that supposed to be an insult, or praise for surviving this long?"

" 'S a bit of both. I've seen those- those... _things_ on your body, and by the looks of it-" His sentence was cut short by a huff from Reich. "-You go looking for trouble."

"You moron, I don't go _looking_ for trouble," Reich drawled, waving his bottle in front of USSR's face. "It just follows me around."

"You sure you're not the cause?"

"Hah, yeah. Me, the world's biggest troublemaker. Maybe when I was younger," Reich replied, grinning at first, then trailing off as bad memories resurfaced.

There was a pregnant silence as the conversation between them stopped. Reich downed the rest of his drink and set the bottle down on the floor, leaning back into the comforting squishiness of the sofa. He let his eyes wander back to the screen and watched as the mice from before were now splashing about in a bucket of water. He didn't even know why he was watching it. It wasn't particularly interesting, but he didn't feel like changing the channel. USSR's voice cut through the silence, making him jump. The German turned to watch him lean forwards and fold himself almost in half to search around on the floor for something. It was quite the strange sight; USSR was a buff dude.

"What time is it? I can't find my watch."

"I'll check my phone, that has the time on it."

True to his word, Reich pulled out his phone and turned it on, squinting at the bright light. It was late. Very late. He showed USSR the screen, smiling smugly when the Soviet recoiled in discomfort.

"Turn it off, you'll give me a headache," he grumbled, shielding his eyes with his arm.

"Yeah yeah, alright. It's late by the way, 11:30."

"Oh, yeah. Guess we've uh... Been in here all day huh?"

"Oh no shit!" Reich laughed, draping himself across the arm of the sofa languidly like a stretching cat. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as USSR regarded him with confusion at first, but gradually his face became redder and he averted his gaze.

"Do you want to go home yet? I know you- I know you asked me earlier..." He paused, seeming to forget what he was saying for a moment. At the reminder, Reich sat up and considered his question.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't be driving in your state~" Reich teased, poking a finger into USSR's chest and giggling.

"You think I don't know that? I won't be driving, and neither will you. We're both drunk," the Soviet drawled, poking Reich's chest in retort and grinning.

"Hmm, I'm only tipsy, whereas _you're_ hammered, Herr Soviet," Reich replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright, alright. I'm getting Ukraine. He'll drive you home."

"Will you come with me?"

"Will I _what_ now?"

"Spend the night at my house Sowjet~" Reich whined, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were high _and_ drunk," USSR mumbled, sounding a little dazed. "What happened to the Reich I met back in that bar?"

"Why? Do you want him back?"

"No, I think I prefer drunk Reich."

"Yeah, I bet you do~ But you didn't answer my question. Come home with me?" Reich asked, blinking up at USSR through his eyelashes. If being seductive would help him get his own way, dignity be damned, that's the way he would do it. "I spent the night at your house, you have to spend a night at mine," he whined.

USSR sighed in defeat, hanging his head for a second.

"Alright, fine. One... One night," USSR relented, rubbing at his eyes in a futile attempt to sober up, at least a little bit. Reich's eyes lit up. It had worked, and now he got to spend another day with USSR. It wasn't like he had a job to go to, and as today was Friday, tomorrow would be Saturday, so USSR probably wouldn't work that day. Come to think of it, he never seemed to go to work at all. Reich made a mental note to ask him about it when he was sober. He watched as USSR forced himself to his feet, pawing at the wall to keep himself upright and heading out to the hallway. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and cupped his hands around his mouth.

" **UKRAAAIIINE!** "

There was a pause and some thumping, presumably Ukraine coming out to the landing.

" **WHAT**?"

" **I NEED TO BORROW YOU**."

" **FOR WHAT**?"

" **DRIVE MEEE**."

" **DRIVE YOU WHERE**?"

" **Квартира рейха**."

" **ALRIGHT, I'LL BE DOWN IN A SECOND**!"

" **'KAY, THANKS**!"

USSR sauntered back into the lounge, a hand pressed to his forehead.

"You okay?"

" _Headache_ ," he groaned, stooping to pick up an armful of the cans that littered the floor.

"Let me help with that," Reich muttered, getting off the sofa himself and scooping up as many bottles as he could. It was still dark, so he swept his hands around until he found some, hoping against all hopes that he wouldn't knock over any that still had something in them. He watched as USSR headed back into the kitchen with his armful of glass and aluminium, leaving the Nazi alone with his thoughts. When they had brought out the drinks about two hours ago USSR had taken a while to be affected by the alcohol, but once it kicked in, he seemed a whole new person. The Soviet certainly laughed more, which wasn't saying much, but he also became increasingly confident and handsy. Reich had found him running his fingers through his ponytail, admiring its length and asking questions about it. Reich wouldn't have minded it had USSR been careful with him, but when the Russian's hand had gotten tangled in it, it hurt. Reich's scalp wasn't really sensitive, but the moan that left his mouth suggested otherwise. After that, Reich wouldn't let him anywhere near his hair for fear of something like that happening again. In all honesty, he didn't realise he liked having his hair pulled.

It was that moment USSR chose to return, coming back for the last few bottles and rubbish that he hadn't managed to pick up the first time. He seemed to have gotten the hang of walking now, but he still looked a little wobbly.

"You bringing them through or what?" The Russian asked, jabbing a thumb at the stuff that Reich was holding.

"Yeah, I got it," Reich replied, standing and following USSR into the kitchen. It didn't take them long to finish cleaning the room, and even less time for Ukraine to come down from upstairs. He chuckled when he saw them, Reich helping USSR as he kept missing the arms of his coat whilst trying to put it on.

"Have you been at the Polugar again Sir?"

" _Yeeesss_ ," USSR slurred, finally managing to put his coat on properly. "Been sharing it with Reich."

Ukraine turned to the German, a smirk still painted on his face.

"How much did you drink? You don't seem as smashed."

"Because I'm not. I'm _juuuust_ past tipsy," Reich replied with a grin of his own. "I must admit, I didn't get a look in, but I'm glad I didn't now. Judging by the state of this _moron_ \--" USSR chuckled at Reich's words, "--I don't think I'd want to be seen like this in front of you."

"Here, I'll get the car started, you bring him outside, savvy?"

"Yeah, will do."

Reich propped USSR up against the wall while he put on his own coat and boots, tossing USSR's shoes over at him.

"Come on big boy, put those on unless you want cold wet feet."

USSR grumbled, but otherwise did as he was told. Reich stood up, pulling USSR out the front door with him. Unfortunately, the Russian seemed to make it his mission to try and feel Reich up pretty much everywhere. His hands kept wandering south, much to the Nazi's embarrassment, and Reich kept having to swat him away and reprimand him. USSR didn't really seem to care. Thankfully, though, Ukraine kept his word. He was sitting in the car with the back door open, patiently waiting for them, but when he saw how hands-on his employer was being to Reich, he grinned.

"Looks like someone has the serious hots for you!" He teased, laughing at Reich's attempts to push USSR off. Reich just pushed USSR into the car and followed behind him, grumbling at Ukraine to just shut up as it was embarrassing. USSR must've had some kind of lag with the alcohol, probably because of his large size. He had drunk a lot, claiming he'd be fine and it wouldn't affect him. Well, _that_ was a complete lie. It took a while to actually show, but when it did, boy... It certainly hit him hard. Reich on the other hand was used to large amounts of alcohol, so it wasn't as bad for him. He still felt lightheaded though, so maybe the alcohol was starting to catch up to him too. The drive was spent with Reich giving Ukraine directions and occasionally making small talk with him. USSR, surprisingly enough, was behaving himself, resigning to looking wistfully out of the window. Finally after what seemed like hours, they arrived in familiar territory, passing Estonia's shop and pulling up in front of the dark apartment block. Reich got out of the car and made to shut the door, but USSR followed behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"Spending the night at yours, like you asked," USSR deadpanned, looking him in the eyes, completely serious.

"You didn't bring any clothes you imbecile! You know full well mine won't fit you."

"Eh. The ones I'm wearing now will be fine."

"Ugh, you disgusting scrub. _I'm_ the one on benefits and I still make the effort to wear clean clothes each day."

"Yeah yeah, you know you like me anyway."

"Hey uh, sorry to break up whatever it is you two have going, but it's kinda cold. Think you can close the door?" Ukraine asked, turning in his seat to watch them argue.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry Ukraine," Reich replied, smiling sheepishly and closing the door. "Have a nice night!"

"Yeah, you too!"

Ukraine pulled away from the curb, turning the car around and rolling the window down as he passed them.

"Wear a condom!"

"Fick dich!" Reich screeched, blushing madly. Everything was going so well until then... He sighed, turning back to look for USSR. He had already headed inside, waving Reich over. The Nazi walked over, searching his coat pocket for the keys to his door, finding them with relative ease. As they walked up the stairs, USSR giggled at something, presumably some funny thought or joke he couldn't put into words. He poked Reich in the ribs every now and again and each time seemed to be even funnier than the last one. The poking and prodding was tickling Reich, so much so that he was laughing too by the time they reached his door. He fumbled with the keys while USSR waited patiently behind him. When the door opened he followed Reich inside like a dog, but when the Nazi turned around to lock it again, USSR pushed him against the wall and pinned him there with his body. Reich's alcohol-clouded mind took a minute or two to catch up with things, but once he realized what was going on, he blushed bright red.

"So-Sowjet? What are you-"

"Ukraine has good ideas sometimes. D'you think we can follow through with this one?" USSR mumbled, pushing Reich's coat collar out of the way and lowering his mouth to the exposed skin, careful not to touch any bruises. "I want you."

"Yes, that much is obvious, you brute," Reich replied, clutching onto the front of USSR's coat as he felt the Soviet's teeth bite experimentally at the column of his throat. He let out a pleased hum at the smooth glide of the Russian's tongue soothing the burn of his bite.

"Will you let me?" USSR asked, his breath dancing over Reich's skin and making him shudder.

"I don't have any condoms, Sowjet..."

"And? It's not a problem for me if it's not for you. I'm clean."

"So am I. You'd better not be lying, because if you give me an STD I swear there will be no wall on this earth that will shield you from my rage."

"Er... Okay, should I be scared?"

Reich snorted with laughter.

"No, you moron. Come here," Reich replied, cupping USSR's face and pulling him into a kiss that the Soviet was quick to reciprocate. Innocent and tender at first, just experimenting with sensations, but it quickly devolved into a more heated make-out session. Reich slipped his arms around USSR's neck, offering the Soviet his tongue which USSR was quick to let into his mouth, sucking on it tentatively. USSR both smelt and tasted of alcohol, but it didn't really bother either of them too much. The Nazi let one of his hands wander to the fastenings of USSR's coat, fumbling with them blindly. The Russian's chest rumbled with a deep chuckle and he pulled away from the kiss.

"Impatient much?" He asked, grinning.

"Oh give me a break. I've wanted this since I first saw you, I'm not wasting a single fucking moment of this."

Reich pulled him back into another kiss, grateful that USSR had taken over taking off his coat. It gave him time to get his own off, letting it drop to the floor and not really caring what happened to it. It had blood on it anyway and he had to buy a new one, so it didn't really matter. They separated for a moment, just long enough to pull each other's shirts off and kick away their shoes.

"Christ, Reich..." USSR growled, pushing the German back against the wall and attacking his neck again, marking any skin he could find that wasn't already bruised or scarred.

"Sowjet..." Reich moaned, grinding his hips into USSR's and smirking at the groan that left his partner's lips.

"Needy little-" The Soviet ground out, pulling away from Reich's neck and kissing him fiercely again instead. "Fuck, the things you do to me..."

Reich smiled into the kiss, moaning when he felt a hand in his hair, pulling on it as he tilted his head. It was _very_ different from the last time USSR did it, as this time it sent a lightning bolt of pleasure running down his spine instead of hurting. At least USSR had actually _learnt_ what he did wrong last time in his fuck-drunk state. Reich moaned again at the feel of USSR's tongue sliding against his own in a way that felt so sinfully filthy. He chased USSR's taste like a parched man chases water. He wanted, no, _needed_ more. Needed to know how he felt, how he sounded. He felt USSR break the kiss, pulling away but keeping Reich still with the hand in his hair. Reich opened his mouth to complain but a harsh tug on his hair made him moan, cracking his eyes open to look at USSR.

"As I thought. You like this?" USSR asked, grinning.

"Yes..." Reich panted, breathless from their kisses.

"Want me to do it again?"

"Ja, bitte- Oh!" Reich keened as USSR tightened his grip on his ponytail, clutching onto the Soviet's shoulders.

"Kinky bastard," USSR teased, grinding himself against Reich and growling possessively. Reich grabbed his jaw and kissed him fiercely, opening his mouth obediently as he did so. The kiss quickly became animalistic, all lips and teeth and tongue. Snogging in the dark was frankly fantastic in the Nazi's opinion, but Reich had other ideas as to how he wanted tonight to turn out. The alcohol and his growing arousal clouded his mind, making everything seem like a dream almost. It just served to increase his desire. Breaking off the kiss, Reich took USSR by the hand, trying to guide him towards the bed.

"Come on big boy, I'm not being taken against the wall. It's cold there."

They giggled for no apparent reason as they drifted over to the bed, leaving fevered kisses on any piece of their partner's skin they could reach. Reich backed up until the backs of his knees hit the bed, allowing himself to fall back on it and pulling USSR with him, locking their lips together and grinding against the Russian's clothed erection, listening to the deep moan his actions elicited.

"Damn... pейх, lay down for me," USSR murmured, pulling away and shuffling backwards to give the German room to move. Reich hurriedly positioned his pillows like a backrest, laying back against them as requested and pulling off his jeans, throwing them onto the floor to join his coat. He spread his legs in invitation, whining in protest when USSR took hold of his wrists and lifted his arms up above his head, pinning them there.

"You said something about your chest being sensitive earlier, didn't you?"

Reich shivered in excitement, nodding enthusiastically.

"Y-Yes..."

"Good, you should like this then," USSR rumbled, a smirk plastered on his face. He lowered his head to Reich's stomach, leaving soft butterfly kisses on his skin and working his way up, torturously slow. Reich writhed against the Soviet's grip, trying to encourage USSR to do _more_. His underwear felt too tight, cruel in the way it barred his cock from getting any kind of friction. After what seemed like years, USSR finally made it to the swell of Reich's chest, glancing at his nipples and making the Nazi shudder in anticipation.

"Please," Reich begged, trying to arch his chest into USSR's touch. USSR just smirked, transferring both of Reich's wrists into one hand and bringing his now free hand to his mouth, coating it in saliva. He traced his fingers down to one of the German's nipples, rubbing his thumb over it experimentally. Reich's breath hitched and he let out a sigh; it felt good, it just wasn't enough. "Soviet," he urged again, gazing with pleading eyes into those of his captor.

"Well, now I know you weren't lying to me," The Russian teased. He alternated between circling the sensitive bud and pinching it gently with his fingers, teasing it to hardness. The feeling was so intense it made Reich want to keen, desperate for more of whatever USSR was prepared to give him. He let his head fall backwards with an audible 'thump' when the Soviet's mouth closed over his other nipple, his fists clenching in USSR's grip.

"Hah... More Soviet, please," he whimpered.

USSR was only too happy to oblige this time, rolling one between his fingers while his mouth played with the other, listening to the soft moans from his partner. USSR pulled his mouth away from Reich's chest in favor of teasing the nipple in his fingers by swiping his fingers over it, rolling and tweaking carefully, all the while watching Reich's face to see his reaction. The German let out a cry as his chest arched into the touch, his cock twitching in its confines and creating a damp spot on the front of his underwear, begging for attention it wasn't going to get.

"Ah! Soviet~" He panted, his eyes darkening as they filled with lust.

USSR grinned to himself in smug satisfaction, finally letting up on his abuse of Reich's chest. His grip on Reich's wrists relented, letting him control his arms again. The first thing Reich did was spread his legs a little wider and pulled USSR up his body, capturing his lips again and moaning into his mouth. The Nazi wrapped his arms around USSR's shoulders, keeping him close.

"Christ, you don't know how badly I've wanted this," he whispered between kisses. "Please Soviet, don't make me wait."

The desperate plea from his lover encouraged USSR to do as requested. He quickly lowered his hands down to the German's underwear, tugging at the waistband and hoping Reich would take the hint. He did, and he lifted his hips so as to let USSR strip him of the fabric, purring happily as the Russian's fingers brushed over his length.

"You too big boy, come on," he teased, hooking his fingers in the beltloops of USSR's jeans, pulling at them in return. USSR chuckled to himself, wasting no time in freeing himself of the last few items of clothing, dropping them on the floor along with everything else. Reich sat up on his knees, pressing a brief kiss to USSR's lips before pushing him down onto his back.

"Stay there," he commanded, watching with satisfaction as USSR did as he was told, making himself comfortable and waiting for whatever Reich was going to do. The Nazi was quick to straddle him, flashing a fanged grin at the man beneath him. He quickly took out his hair-tie, dropping it onto the floor and letting his hair cascade over his shoulders. He brought his fingers to his mouth and proceeded to suck on them for a brief moment, swirling his tongue around the digits until he deemed them slick enough for the task at hand. He removed them from his mouth and sat up a little straighter, reaching behind himself and pushing at his entrance. His fingers slid past the tight ring of muscle with practiced ease and he let out a fluttering moan at the feeling. It hurt, sure; it had been a while since his last time with anybody other than himself, but it felt so good to be filled again. He had almost forgotten what it felt like. Almost, but not quite. As he continued to stretch himself, his eyes flickered to those of the Russian beneath him and he grinned at the awestruck look on his face.

"Don't worry, you'll get your turn soon. I'm gonna ride you. That sound good?"

USSR nodded enthusiastically, his hands reaching forward and taking hold of Reich's hips. Not moving them, just holding. It was all he could do to just lay and watch the show, his erection throbbing damn near painfully against his stomach. Reich took his time preparing himself, making sure to be as thorough as possible. USSR wasn't the biggest he'd had, but he certainly wasn't small. Seven inches at least. When he thought he had been opened enough, he shuffled forwards and positioned USSR's length at his entrance.

"Thank Pangaea you're not huge. I wouldn't be able to do this if you were," Reich whispered. USSR was about to ask what he meant, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out. Reich lowered himself in a smooth glide, taking USSR straight to the base and forcing a deep moan from his partner’s chest. He grinned proudly despite the overwhelming wave of pleasure that swept through him.

“So that’s what you meant...” The Soviet panted, clutching desperately onto Reich’s hips. The German just nodded with a small half-smile, shifting around for a moment and trying to adjust to the difference in size. As soon as all traces of pain had ebbed away, Reich lifted himself up again, only to sink straight back down. He moaned softly at the feeling of USSR's cock stretching him like his fingers never could, letting the hands on his hips guide him up and down.

“Scheiße... Soviet, don't be afraid to be rough with me. I like it rough, I won't mind,” Reich assured his lover, fucking himself on USSR's cock, still trying to find the right angle.

USSR nodded in assent and decided to help him, thrusting his hips upwards to meet Reich halfway, his fingers digging into the soft, unmarked flesh of the Nazi’s hips. It took a moment or two to find the right angle, but it was well worth the wait. Reich cried out as his prostate was nailed head on, his hair falling in front of his face as his body trembled. USSR grinned up at him, brushing the German's locks out of his eyes.

"Oh gott-" Reich choked out, his nails stabbing into USSR's chest. "Right there!"

"What, here?" USSR asked with a smirk, using Reich's hips to pick him up and slam him down on his cock. Reich yelped, his head rolling backwards as an intense pulse of pleasure shot up his spine.

"Yes! Yes, Soviet, bitte!"

Whereas it had been Reich that set the pace before, USSR took the lead this time. He thrust upwards as forcefully as possible to try get more sounds out of the Nazi, loving each and every one. Every breath Reich tried to take in became a moan as USSR hit his mark with each thrust. He swayed, threatening to fall forwards as USSR hit his prostate again and again, making him weak at the knees. He used USSR's broad chest to support himself, his fingers clawing at his skin. Pangaea, to say it had been too long was an understatement... They soon found a rhythm that worked for both of them so that each thrust upwards was met with an equally forceful one down.

USSR decided to try something else it seemed, as after a particularly deep thrust he pulled out completely, much to the German's dismay. Reich opened his mouth to demand an explanation but he was unexpectedly flipped over, his ass in the air while his head was shoved down on the bed with a hand tangled in his hair. Reich's brain took a second to catch up with things, a bright blush creeping across his face when he realized his predicament. Now that he wasn't being fucked, he felt an almost unbearable feeling of emptiness. His own length leaked profusely onto the bed, aching to be touched. He moaned as the hand in his hair forced him to turn his head to the side, making him look at the Russian looming over him. The rough handling sent a thrill through the Nazi's body, making him shudder.

"Want a safeword..." USSR growled. "You said I could be rough, but I don't want to hurt you."

"Alright, um. A-Artillery."

"You sure?"

Reich nodded enthusiastically, pushing his hips back as much as possible and trying to get USSR to take the obvious hint. USSR just chuckled, using his free hand to grab Reich's hips and hold them still.

“Fuck, look at you...” USSR purred, running his hand up Reich’s back slowly, savouring the sight of him. "So needy, so damn _desperate_ , aren't you?"

“ _Soviet_ ,” Reich moaned, his cock twitching in excitement at USSR's words. As shameful as the situation was, it was only adding fuel to his lustful desires. At this point, he was just aching to have USSR’s cock back inside him, and didn't care what it took as long as his wish was fulfilled.

“You getting off on me shaming you?" USSR teased, sliding his cock between the cleft of Reich's ass and smirking at the little nod Reich gave him. "You _are_! Who knew you'd enjoy something like this, hmm?"

" _Please_ Soviet!" Reich begged, fisting the sheets desperately. His patience was quickly wearing thin, but the way USSR made him lose control was quickly becoming just as intoxicating as his arousal. "Just fuck me already!"

"Well, seeing as you asked so nicely, how could I say no?"

USSR buried himself to the hilt with a single smooth thrust forward, Reich letting out a pleasure-filled cry of delight. USSR took on a more rough pace than before, angling each thrust to hit the German’s prostate and enjoying the moans and pleas that fell from his lips. Reich was in ecstasy, his every breath a moan, his nerves ablaze with waves of pleasure that felt like fire. He clenched his fingers in the sheets beneath him, trying to cope with how much he was feeling.

“Ach mein gott- Soviet! Don't stop!” He gasped. Tears of stimulation pricked at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall, but USSR just smiled to himself. He tugged on Reich's hair, pulling him up and making him moan loudly. Reich's whole body trembled, unused to such an intense feeling.

"I don't plan to, my dear," he growled, placing his hand against Reich's throat to keep him upright, being careful not to crush his windpipe as another wail of pleasure was ripped from the Nazi's throat. If anything, the roughness of USSR's actions was only increasing Reich's arousal tenfold. The Soviet sped up his thrusts, reaching impossibly deep and touching his insides in all the right places, making Reich sob at the overwhelming feeling. He felt so helpless, so weak, so filthy. Normally, he wouldn't have liked feeling like this, but at the moment, it felt so incredibly good. Reich could feel his climax inching closer with each new burst of pleasure that USSR delivered, and all he could do was pant and moan, his tears rolling down his face he hoped USSR was as close as he was. Fortunately, the Soviet was also nearing his own end, panting heavily against the German’s neck. A desperate keen slipped past Reich’s lips as USSR pressed his mouth to a smallish scar on the side of his neck, sucking and biting at it and making it tingle.

"A-Ah! Sowjet! C-Can't!" he cried, clutching at USSR's arm so tightly he was surprised the skin didn't break.

"Artillery?" USSR asked, sounding worried.

"No, no. Just- Let me down," the German panted, falling forward onto his elbows as USSR let go of his throat. He moaned breathlessly as USSR pushed back into him, curling over him protectively as he resumed the pace from before. He tangled his hand in Reich's hair again, turning the Nazi's head to the side and grinning knowingly down at his tear-stained face.

"Close?"

Reich nodded quickly.

"Use your words pet," USSR urged, slowing down his thrusts. Reich's eyes flew open and he quickly did as he was told.

"Y-Yes! Close, so close. Don't stop, please!"

USSR chuckled and picked up the pace again. He removed the hand from Reich's hair, reaching beneath him instead and taking hold of the German's cock, stroking in perfect sync with his thrusts. The Nazi cried out, clutching onto a pillow in front of him and burying his face into it. He couldn't take much more of this, he was so close. USSR leaned back down close to Reich's shoulder, whispering into his ear.

"Go ahead my dear, come for me."

A bite to his shoulder wound and a particularly rough slam against his prostate pushed Reich over the edge, his orgasm bursting through him like fireworks, seeming to set every nerve ending alight.

“Soviet!” He screamed, arching his back and sinking his fangs into his pillow, his cum spurting over the Russian's fingers and onto the bed below him. As the Nazi's walls clenched tightly around him, USSR followed suit, coating Reich’s insides in his seed and giving Reich's cock a last few lazy strokes. The German's chest heaved as he dragged in lungfuls of air he didn't realize he needed so badly. His body thrummed pleasantly and he felt like a cloud, like he could just float away. He winced as USSR pulled out; his whole body was hypersensitive, and USSR’s movements brought with them the pain of overstimulation. He finally let go of his pillow and rolled himself onto his side to assess the state of his body. His hips, wrists and arms were sore, but the pain just served as a reminder of what they had just done, so he didn't really mind it all that much. USSR lay down next to him, taking hold of his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before looking over the German's body, grimacing at the sight of angry red handprints beginning to appear on Reich's hips and wrists.

"Oh I'm going to be sore in the morning..." Reich groaned, turning over onto his back cautiously. His legs still felt like jelly and his back had to readjust to being straight again instead of being at an uncomfortable curve. Everything hummed with a deep-set ache, like being connected to a circuit's current.

"You... Er... You alright?" USSR asked awkwardly, looking slightly concerned. He reached forward to gently wipe away Reich's tears, looking a bit sheepish as he did so.

"Yes," the Nazi panted, offering USSR a tired smile. "Better than alright. _That_ was _amazing_."

USSR let out a sigh of relief.

"Sorry for being so rough with you. I didn't hurt you did I?"

"Not too badly, no. I mean, this bite will take a few days to heal--" Reich pointed to the imprint of teeth on his left shoulder, "--But I don't mind."

"Oh shit!" USSR gasped, sitting up and reaching for him, his eyes wide. "That's your stab wound! Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine, right as rain. Besides, I enjoyed it. I _did_ tell you I would," Reich assured him, a small smile making its way onto his face. USSR smiled back, leaning forward and leaving a brief kiss on Reich's lips. They separated, a faint flush dusting both of their faces. They looked at each other, giggling drunkenly for no reason in particular other than nobody being there to tell them not to. USSR turned Reich over onto his side and played with his hair, weaving his fingers through it carefully.

"You're amazing. Gonna have to do that again sometime," he said, smiling as he attempted to braid a few strands of the Nazi's hair.

"Yeah okay. Maybe when we're sober though," Reich laughed.

All of a sudden, a knock at the door made them jump, their eyes flicking between each other and the door. Reich stood up despite his body's protests and pulled on a long hoodie, going to answer the knock. Shit. He forgot to lock the door! Thank Pangaea it was still closed. That could've been _really_ awkward... He opened the door slightly, peeking outside, and to his surprise, it was the lady from next door. A busty, freckled, middle-aged lady named Ms. Europe. Despite her age, she still attempted to be young and trendy, even going as far as to dye her hair a deep ocean blue. Ms. Europe was the closest thing to a mother that anyone in this damned apartment block had, as everyone liked her and she liked everyone back, but she acted especially like a mother hen to Reich and his friends for some reason.

"M-Ms Europe!" Reich squeaked in surprise, opening the door a little more. It wasn't enough to be seen as an invitation to come in, but just enough to talk properly.

"Good evening, Reich. I don't know if you're aware, but it's, like, something past one in the morning. You _might_ want to go to bed or continue this at _his_ house. What's his name, Soviet? Was it?" she asked, a knowing smirk on her face. She knew he was bisexual, she had been one of the first people to find out. Reich blushed under her gaze, his fingers tugging at the hem of his hoodie awkwardly.

"I-I'm sorry, we, uh... We didn't mean to be so loud," Reich apologized, stumbling over his words. "Sorry to disturb you..."

"Oh no mi'dear, _I'm_ sorry to be interrupting _you_ , you sounded like you were having fun," she grinned, whereas Reich felt a blush creep up his neck. "I'm just thinking of Asia two doors down. You know that guy has bionic ears, and you don't _really_ want _him_ knocking on your door at one in the morning, do you darling?"

"No... Not really. Thanks for the heads up Ms. Europe," Reich mumbled, bowing his head respectfully and averting his gaze.

"No problem love. Don't stay up too early now."

"I won't, bye!" Reich waved as Ms. Europe headed back to her own apartment, and he shut the door, leaning back against it with a sigh.

"Who was that Reich?"

"Um... Next door neighbor. She wanted us to keep the noise down," Reich explained. USSR sighed, flopping back onto the bed. Reich stumbled as he walked back over, grimacing as he took off his hoodie.

"Fuck, Soviet. You've destroyed my ass, I can't walk right anymore," Reich hissed, choosing some clean underwear and heading to the bathroom to clean himself.

USSR rumbled with laughter.

"Sorry for that, you were too irresistible."

"Do I sound like I'm complaining?" Reich called from the bathroom.

"Heh, no,” USSR replied. "I'm picking our clothes back up, where's your hair-tie?"

“How should I know?"

“Just asking, my dear.”

When Reich came back into the room, USSR was waiting for him under the covers, patting the space next to him. Reich didn’t need to be told twice. He shuffled into the bed next to USSR and when the Russian opened his arms as an invitation, Reich melted into his embrace, nuzzling up against his broad chest. All of a sudden, he remembered something, his eyes widening in a split second.

"Fuck."

"What? What's wrong?"

"The cumstain," Reich groaned, picking up his head and looking further down the duvet. "That's not going to come out," he whined. USSR laughed.

"I'll buy you a new duvet, just leave it."

"Why would you buy me a new duvet?"

"Because I can."

"Just because you _can_ do something doesn't mean you _should_."

"I could've fucked you earlier. I didn't, but I should've done."

"You're as _dense_ as a rock! Are you serious?!" Reich hissed, planting his hand into USSR's face and taking great delight in the pained 'oof' that came with it.

"Alright, alright! Sorry!" USSR said, his voice muffled by Reich's palm. Reich removed his hand from USSR's face and made himself comfy again. There was a comfortable silence between them until Reich remembered something else.

"Sowjet."

"Hmm?"

"Consider this thanks for saving my life."

"What, the slap to the face?"

"You moron. You know full well what I mean."

"Okay, sorry," USSR murmured, rolling his eyes. "You know you don't need to say thank you, right? How many times do I have to remind you?"

"As many times as it takes. Don’t fight me on this, I’m tired," Reich whined, rolling over and facing away from USSR, hoping he would take the very obvious hint. The Soviet repositioned himself so that he lay behind Reich, an arm draped protectively over his stomach. They lay in comfortable silence for a moment before Reich decided he wanted an answer to a burning question.

"Sowjet, what does this make us?"

"Fuck buddies."

“Please tell me you're joking."

“Of course I am. Now who's the moron?” USSR teased, a certain smugness evident in his voice.

"Oh shut up. I'm serious though, what are we now, an item?"

"If you want to be. I like the sound of it, do you?"

Reich paused for a second. If this was the kind of perk that came with drinking, it would be a lot harder to break the habit than he thought. He turned himself over so he could look at USSR's face, smiling as he did so.

"Yeah. I like the sound of that too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to The Translations!
> 
> German Words:  
> Russland ist ein schönes land - Russia Is A Wondrous Land  
> Moskau - Moscow  
> Liebe Schmeckt Wie Kaviar - Love Tastes Like Caviar  
> Mädchen Sind Zum Küssen Da - Girls Are There To Kiss  
> Ja - Yes  
> Guten Morgen - Good Morning  
> Sowjet - Soviet  
> Bitte - Please  
> Verdammt - Damn It  
> Ähm - Erm  
> Gut - Good  
> Scheiße - Shit  
> Fick Dich - Fuck You
> 
> Russian Words:  
> Трахни это - Fuck It  
> нет - No  
> Один - One  
> Два - Two  
> Три - Three  
> Хорошо - Good  
> Мудак - Asshole  
> Квартира рейха - Reich's Apartment  
> pейх - Reich
> 
> Ukrainian Words:  
> Радянські - Soviet  
> зад - Ass
> 
> Latvian Words:  
> Labrīt - Good Morning  
> Pakaļu - Asshole
> 
> Lithuanian Words:  
> Šventas Pragaras - Holy Hell
> 
> Pirates Of The Carribbeanian:  
> Savvy - Understand?


	8. Author's Note

Hah! You were expecting chapter, but it was me, Deo!

Sorry, couldn't resist the reference! I don't watch Jojo's Great Adventure, but I know like, just the one line from it. I hope you're all staying indoors and keeping in touch with your family and friends! (If you have any. If you're like me and only have parents and an annoying little brother, I feel for you pal. It hurts.) Anyway, as most of you have no doubt noticed my lack of updates in the past few months, I feel you all deserve an explanation.

Basically, I've been kept busy with work I've been sent to do at home due to COVID19 (Coronavirus), and I have recently just finished all that was backed up. Now that's out of the way, I have also got a few personal projects that have been waiting a bit longer than this story have. I deem it only fair to get them out of the way first, and those are my reasons for not giving you any new content.  
There was a lot of debate about the second part to my explanation, as I kinda became very conflicted on what to tell you and what to spring as a surprise. I decided it would be better for you to know though, so here you are.

Whilst going through some old work of mine on my old laptop, I discovered an old storyline I was working on, and when I had a read of it, it's actually half-decent. I've decided to discontinue DOATLG for now, as I am trying to bring my old storyline up-to-date. If I manage to edit and iron it all out properly, I'll be posting it on AO3 for all you lovely people to read. Depends if I think it's fair or not to continue work on it.

The last piece I wish to say it that if any of you want to take these chapters I have written and adapt your own story from them or continue it on, you are free to do so. This was originally started as a way to improve my writing when I first became passionate about the fandom. Nothing I post is ever officially mine, per se, so you can do as you wish with this story until I post more, which will probably be either in a few months or some time next year, depending on how well my life goes in that time.

Anyway, this is all I wished to say for now. Again, I have been incredibly grateful of the encouragement and support I got from all of you, and I feel terrible for just leaving it like this. I guess that you just lose your previous passion for stuff over time, and that's a contributing factor to this story's discontinuing. God this got long... Sorry for that.

Anyhow, hope you're all staying safe and healthy! Please stay indoors and don't climb your walls or pull your hair out! :)  
\- Deoxy

**Author's Note:**

> Hooray! Storytime! Don't you just love writer's block? I sure do, I have it all the time! *Insert Hide The Pain Harold meme here*
> 
> Please, feel free to offer criticism or suggestions. I am open to literally everything, no shit. Oh and er... Don't read the tags unless you have bleach on hand.
> 
> Seriously though... Don't read the tags.


End file.
